THE 
WEDNESDAY  WIFE 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO    •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA    •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON    •    BOMBAY    •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OP  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


THE 
WEDNESDAY  WIFE 


BY 

JULIETTE  GORDON  SMITH 


jfteto  gork 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1921 

Alt  rights  reserved 


PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   Or  AMERICA 


COPYRIGHT,   1921, 

BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Set  up  and  printed.     Published  September,  1921. 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  8.  A. 


S13G007 


THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

CHAPTER  I 

THREE   DOVES    IN   A    COTE 

IT  was  evening  in  the  harem  of  Attar  abu  Hamed  al 
Hassen. 

The  master  gazed  across  at  Aletra,  and,  though  she 
looked  not — nor  even  glanced  through  the  veil  of  her 
long  black  lashes — she  knew — and  he  knew  that  she 
knew — he  was  looking. 

Attar  and  his  three  wives — Jeppa  and  Zulaykha  and 
Aletra — were  sitting  about  on  cushions  on  the  floor  of 
the  harem.  Jeppa,  his  Monday  wife,  sat  nearest  him, 
it  being  the  eve  of  Monday,  from  which  time  the  day 
is  reckoned  in  the  East.  Zulaykha,  his  Tuesday  wife, 
sat  next  to  her;  and  Aletra,  his  Wednesday  wife, 
farthest  away. 

Attar,  contrary  to  the  Occidental  conception  of  a 
Mohammedan,  was  large  and  blond,  almost  herculean 
in  build,  and  wore  a  great  curling  beard.  Hta  mother 
had  been  a  gift  to  his  father  from  one  of  the  half- 
Turkish,  half-Russian  tribes  of  the  border,  with  perhaps 
more  Russian  than  Turkish  blood  in  her  veins,  and  the 
old  Mohammedan  had  loved  her  well. 

Besides  being  cast  in  a  noble  mold,  his  eyes  held  in 

1 


2  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

their  depths  the  calm  power,  the  fearless  gentleness  of 
a  great  nature.  Not  only  was  he  good  to  look  upon, 
but  he  was  a  good  man,  and  deplored  the  truant  habit  of 
his  eyes  to  wander  past  Jeppa  and  Zulaykha  and  rest 
with  delight  upon  Aletra, 

For,  according  to  his  faith,  it  was  his  duty  not  only 
to  devote  himself  to  Jeppa  on  Monday,  but  to  hold 
her — and  her  only — in  his  thoughts  on  that  day.  Tues- 
day was  Zulaykha's  and  Wednesday — ah,  Wednesday 
was  Aletra's! 

At  other  times  Attar  had  contented  himself  with 
counting  the  days  and  the  hours  till  Wednesday  should 
come  again,  but  to-night  it  was  different;  he  knew  that 
the  hours  would  be  lost  in  the  days,  the  days  in  the 
weeks,  and  the  weeks  in  the  months  before  another 
Wednesday  would  find  the  young  Aletra  in  his  arms 
again.  For  on  the  morrow  he  would  begin  his  journey 
to  the  far-distant  Occident,  taking  with  him  much  pre- 
cious merchandise,  and  it  would  be  a  year — perhaps 
two — before  he  would  sit  in  the  harem  again. 

"When  I  am  away,"  said  the  master,  breaking  the 
silence,  "ever  I  think  of  ye  as  three  turtle-doves,  dwell- 
ing in  love  and  sweetness  together,  ministering  unto 
one  another  in  all  kindness.  How  desolate  and  dreary 
must  be  the  one  wife  of  the  uncivilized  man  of  the 
West!" 

"And  the  care  of  the  harem  when  there  are  no 
slaves?"  added  Jeppa. 

"She  destroyeth  her  beauty  to  accomplish  much  labor, 
and  at  the  same  time  bear  children  for  her  husband," 
he  rejoined. 

"It  should  be  a  life  of  bondage,"  said  Jeppa,  shaking 
her  head. 


THREE  DOVES  IN  A  COTE  3 

"But  when  there  are  many  slaves,"  spoke  Zulaykha, 
"it  is,  perchance,  not  so  hard." 

Aletra  said  nothing;  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  invis- 
ible distance  as  if  she  were  listening  intently.  There 
were  voices — faint,  then  coming  nearer — men's  voices 
singing  in  the  night.  The  words  they  sang  were  old 
when  the  sires  of  their  grandsires  sang  them  in  the 
narrow  streets  hundreds  of  years  before,  or  in  the  light 
of  the  caravan  fires  when  crossing  the  desert. 

The  voices  came  nearer,  great  voices  that  seemed  to 
answer  the  silent  call  of  Sahara.  At  the  end  of  the 
chanted  words  was  ever  a  low,  echoing  urge  as  of  souls 
grown  impatient: 

"O  tentsman,  haste  and  strike  the  tents,  I  pray; 

The  day  grows  late. 
The  caravan's  already  under  way ; 

They  will  not  wait. 
The  drummer  sounds  already  the  first  drum; 

The  mule-bells  call; 
Their  leads  the  drivers  on  the  camels  lay. 

Mate  calls  to  mate. 
The  evening-prayer  is  near,  and  lo !  to-night 

The  sky  is  clear; 
The  risen  moon  looks  on  the  sun's  last  ray. 

Beyond  the  gate " 

The  singers  passed,  and  their  voices  grew  faint  be- 
yond the  mosque;  still  none  spoke. 

"Have  we  not  heard  these  words  since  we  were  chil- 
dren ?"  thought  Attar.  "Why  strike  they  us  into  silence 
this  night?  Is  it  Kismet?" 

The  caravan  call  had  unsealed  the  lips  of  the  night. 
Very  close,  a  shrill,  boyish  voice  sang  of  the  love  of 
Yoseph  and  Zulaykha;  but,  breaking  in  upon  it,  as  if 
brushing  aside  so  frail  and  pure  a  thing  as  the  childish 


note,  rising  threadlike  in  the  outer  darkness,  came  the 
sound  of  deeper  voices  from  the  inexhaustible  wells  of 
human  knowledge  and  desire — mighty  voices  pulsing 
softly,  singing  the  tender,  deathless  love-songs  of  the 
East. 

Again  after  each  strain  there  was  a  low  murmur,  in 
which  pathos  and  passion  were  so  blended  that  they 
seemed  an  ecstasy  of  sorrow.  As  they  came  nearer 
the  words  were  plain.  Aletra  listened  as  if  she  drank 
in  their  essence: 

"Fair  love,  my  heart  I  give  to  thee — 

Good  night!     I  go. 
Nay,  thy  sweet  form  I  will  not  fear — 

Good  night!     I  go. 
Should  I  behold  thee  ne'er  again 

'Tis  right,  'tis  right. 
I  clasp  this  hour  of  parting  tight — 

Good  night!     I  go. 
With  raven  tress  and  visage  clear, 

Enchantress  dear, 
Hast  made  my  daylight  dark  and  drear : 

Good  night !     I  go. 
O  light  of  faith,  thy  face  thy  hair 

Like  doubt's  despair! 
Both  this  and  that  yield  torment  rare — 

Good  night!    I  go." 

The  spirit  of  the  night  pulsed  and  throbbed  with  the 
unsipped  cup  of  life  still  in  its  grasp.  The  hours  were 
young  and  the  veil  of  love  had  not  yet  been  lifted,  nor 
the  first  kiss  yet  fallen  upon  her  eyelids;  but  Hope, 
Expectation,  was  in  every  breath.  When,  suddenly,  as 
if  Allah  had  touched  a  great,  vibrating  chord  in  the 
universe,  the  call  of  the  muezzin  sounded  from  hun- 
dreds of  minarets,  and  like  so  many  souls  answering, 


THREE  DOVES  IN  A  COTE  5 

"Here  am  I,"  to  the  voice  of  the  eternal,  countless 
voices  murmured  the  nightfall  prayer  of  'Ashr : 

"Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!    Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!" 

From  the  housetops,  streets,  harems,  bazaars — from 
the  throats  of  Imaums  and  Marabouts,  from  men  good 
and  bad — came  the  same  prayer : 

"Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!  Allah,  hu  Ak  Bar!"  And  in  it 
was  the  spirit  of  intense  spiritual  love. 

All  other  sounds  had  ceased  save  this  strange,  half- 
heard  harmony  that  meant  love  and  God. 

It  was  as  if  in  some  far  place  of  the  frozen  North 
love  and  worship  had  parted,  and  kept  traveling  around 
the  opposite  ends  of  the  earth  till  they  met  at  last  in 
the  land  of  the  cassia  and  lotus,  and  mingled  as  mingle 
the  sands  of  the  desert  till  one  is  like  unto  the  other. 
For  nowhere  else  on  earth  is  love  so  human,  and  no- 
where else  is  worship  so  divine. 

The  prayer  had  broken  the  spirit  of  silence,  and  when 
it  was  over  Attar  exclaimed : 

"By  the  beard  of  the  prophet!  I  had  forgotten  to 
tell  thee  the  latest  gossip."  Here  he  paused.  "Another 
of  the  Sultan's  wives  hath  escaped!" 

"What  sayest  thou  3" 

"Another?" 

"How  passed  she  the  gates?" 

"Tell  us!     Tell  us!"  came  the  quick  questions. 

"Ah!" — with  a  deprecating  lift  of  the  hands,  sug- 
gesting the  fatalism  of  the  Orient — "how  may  one 
know  these  things?  She  may  have  looked  through  the 
gates  and  seen  the  wives  of  humbler  men,  like  me, 
taking  their  steps  unwatched  to  the  bazaars,  walking  in 
the  yellow  sunshine;  and  when  the  eunuch  dozed  or, 
perchance,  counted  his  gold,  she  was  tempted  and  passed 


6  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

out  to  shame  and  wandering  and  danger.  Or,"  he 
continued,  smiling,  "or  she  may  have  been  neglected. 
The  Sultan  hath  many  wives.  Who  knoweth  why  a 
woman  is  content  or  not  content  ?" 

"And  it  could  be  that  she  was  not  neglected,"  drawled 
Zulaykha  sweetly.  "That  could  be  the  trouble.  I 
would  not  be  in  the  seraglio  for  all  the  sweets  and  soft 
rugs  and  tinkling  music  and  silent-footed  slaves.  The 
Sultan  is  too ' 

"Stop!"  said  Attar  with  quiet,  authoritative  rebuke. 
"He  is  the  Sultan.  Forget  not  that." 

Zulaykha  grew  suddenly  sober  under  the  rebuke,  the 
more  because  it  came  so  seldom.  Seeing  this,  Attar 
added  in  half  banter  to  soothe  her  feelings: 

"If  thou  shouldst  bear  a  girl  child,  and  in  time  the 
Sultan  should  ask  her  of  me,  thou  wouldst  plume  thy- 
self with  pride  and  give  her  with  thy  blessing." 

Zulaykha  cast  him  a  grateful  look,  and  answered 
archly : 

"If  her  eyes  should  be  as  clear  and  her  hair  as  gold 
as  thine,  O  master,  she  would  be  good  even  for  the 
Sultan!" 

"Did  I  not  tell  thee?"  laughed  Attar  roundly.  He 
held  Jeppa's  hand  between  his  own,  but  he  looked  over 
her  head  at  Aletra. 

"If  thou  art  prospered  of  Allah  on  thy  journey,  wilt 
thou  bring  with  thee  any  other  wife?"  asked  Jeppa 
placidly. 

"Ah!" — again  lifting  his  hands,  palms  outward — 
"how  may  I  know  if  Allah  wills  or  not  ?" 

"An  thou  dost,  I  pray  she  may  be  amiable  and  not 
so  high-born  as  to  look  with  scorn  upon  us,"  she  said 
gently. 


THREE  DOVES  IN  A  COTE  7 

"Look  with  scorn  upon  thee,  my  orange  blossom !"  he 
laughed  in  derision,  laying  his  arms  about  her  shoul- 
ders. "In  no  man's  harem  beams  so  much  noble  loveli- 
ness as  in  mine." 

He  drew  Jeppa's  head  to  his  shoulder,  but  for  an 
instant  his  eyes  sought  Aletra's  downcast  face. 

"Such  words  are  honey  and  delight  to  the  hearts  of 
the  harem,"  answered  Jeppa.  "We  are  like  sisters, 
only  closer;  for  the  morrow  cannot  see  us  scattered  as 
the  petals  of  a  flower,  one  to  a  near  harem,  and  one  to 
a  far." 

"I  am  young  yet — not  thirty-five,"  answered  Attar. 
"My  father  hath  had  but  three  wives  at  my  age;  and 
when  he  died  he  had  five.  And  as  thou  knowest,  he 
had  sixty  years;  so  I  have  no  need  of  haste." 

"But  thou  wilt  have  more  wives  than  thy  father  in 
the  fullness  of  time,  that  thy  place  in  paradise  may  do 
thy  father  honor  when  Allah  calleth  thee,"  said  Jeppa 
proudly;  and  then  in  a  lower  tone,  as  if  breathing  a 
thought,  she  continued:  "I  pray  we  may  dwell  in 
sweetness  and  industry  to  thy  advantage,  and  that  our 
children  may  smile  in  contentment  together." 

With  this  she  stretched  her  hand  toward  Zulaykha, 
who,  being  at  the  gateway  of  motherhood,  answered 
with  a  strange  smile — the  mystery  of  which  haunts  a 
woman's  eyes  when  she  is  in  league  with  the  Infinite 
and  a  soul  has  been  called  from  the  vasts. 

Zulaykha  was  part  Egyptian,  with  eyes  that  seemed 
to  turn  inward  on  some  great,  satisfying  dream,  except 
when  they  rested  upon  Aletra;  then  a  veil  seemed  to 
fall  between  them  and  her  visions  of  joy.  She  was  now 
the  tender  charge  of  Jeppa  and  Aletra  as  well. 


8  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Where  thou  art  will  always  be  peace,  O  Jeppa," 
answered  Attar  honestly. 

"Thou  speakest  beautiful  words;  but  how  could  there 
be  aught  but  peace  with  such  sweetness  as  the 
two  companions  thou  hast  given  me  ?"  she  returned 
modestly. 

Attar  bowed  his  head  in  assent,  and  again  his  truant 
eyes  rested  upon  the  curve  of  Aletra's  neck  from  ear 
to  shoulder.  Jeppa  may  or  may  not  have  noticed  it, 
but  in  accordance  with  a  magnanimity  that  the  first 
wives  of  Oriental  harems  early  school  themselves  to 
acquire,  she  said: 

"An  thou  hast  seven  wives,  one  for  each  day  of  the 
week,  not  one  will  have  so  sweet  a  voice  or  such  dancing 
grace  as  Aletra."  And  then,  wishing  to  please  him  on 
this  his  last  night  at  home,  she  added:  "Bid  her  sing 
to  thee  before  thou  goest," 

Attar  hesitated.  It  Was  like  praying  not  to  be 
scorched  and  then  walking  into  the  flames ;  but,  that  he 
hesitated  was  sufficient. 

"Dost  thou,  O  gentlest  of  women,  bid  her  sing?"  he 
queried  of  Jeppa. 

"Aye,  that  with  the  morning  thou  mayst  carry  beau- 
tiful thoughts  away  with  thee." 

Aletra's  face  was  a  pale  mask,  neither  demure  nor 
anxious,  till  Attar  spoke;  then  the  surge  of  life  showed 
delicately  pink  to  her  dark  brows. 

"Aletra —  He  paused  for  the  pure  delight  of  ut>- 

tering  her  name.    "Aletra,  sing  thou  of  the  rose  and  the 
nightingale." 

From  her  position  beside  Zulaykha,  where  she  seemed 
even  smaller  than  the  little  Egyptian,  Aletra  rose.  The 
movement  was  like  the  unfolding  of  a  flower — delicately 


THEEE  DOVES  IN  A  COTE  9 

deliberate,  disclosing  new  beauties  in  each  transition, 
until  she  stood  erect,  a  tall,  slim,  lily  of  a  woman. 

Each  time  she  arose  thus,  it  was  a  fresh  surprise  to 
Attar.  So  finely  was  she  fashioned  that  she  gave  a 
suggestion  of  delicate  fragility  associated  only  with 
small  women. 

Ske  paused  a  moment  and,  with  a  supple  motion, 
turned  her  head  and  asked : 

"Wilt  thou  that  I  fetch  the  lute?" 

"Nay,"  said  Attar,  his  eyes  dwelling  with  pleasure 
on  the  poised  figure.  But  he  tightened  the  pressure 
about  Jeppa's  waist,  for  this  was  not  Wednesday. 

Aletra  stood  motionless,  but  her  poise  vibrated  with 
life. 

Presently  she  began — almost  speaking  the  first  words 
of  a  Persian  ghazal,  with  its  ever-haunting  words, 
recurring  and  still  recurring  in  that  peculiar  rhythm 
that  other  nations  have  so  vainly  sought  to  catch.  In  a 
far  corner  of  the  harem  court  an  amber  light  cast  a 
faint  halo  upon  the  shadows,  outlining  the  swaying 
figure  in  its  floating  raiment,  gently  undulating  like  a 
flower  stirred  by  the  breath  of  spring,  and  upon  the 
three  forms  on  the  rugs. 

Aletra's  heart  was  breaking  for  a  look  into  the  eyes 
of  the  master ;  yet  not  once  did  she  raise  her  own. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  women — those  who  look  and 
subjugate  the  heart  of  man  and  those  who  reign  by 
being  looked  upon.  Aletra  was  born  to  be  looked  upon, 
and  not  only  was  she  a  lure  to  the  eye,  but  added  to  her 
great  beauty  was  her  voice,  sweet,  pure,  palpitating 
with  feminine  seductiveness. 

Moments  followed  each  other,  but  the  time  was 
golden-winged  and  bedewed  with  the  honey  of  delight. 


10 

Attar  listened  to  the  velvet-soft  voice  rising  and  falling, 
to  the  tenderness  and  wooing  of  the  words,  to  the  refusal 
and  surrender  of  the  swaying  arms. 

In  the  cadence  of  her  voice  he  heard  only  the  whisper 
of  her  heart  to  his.  The  night  wind  from  many  rose- 
gardens  seemed  to  float  about  her,  and  their  perfume 
to  nestle  in  her  hair. 

Not  only  with  her  lips  did  she  sing,  but  her  round, 
slim  arms,  the  constant  fluent  motion  of  her  shapely 
hands,  her  ankles  and  wrists  and  mouth  and  brows, 
also  sang  their  love-sweet  harmony  to  the  man's  heart 
and  soul  and  senses,  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  her.  The 
beauty  of  the  ghazals  he  only  dimly  comprehended ;  but 
the  night  and  the  passion  of  the  night — he  understood ; 
and  it  consumed  him. 

The  gentle  odor  of  the  south  wind,  the  incense  of 
sandal  and  aloe  wood,  and  the  spices  that  perfumed  the 
rugs,  the  honeyed  sweetness  of  rose-leaves,  and — Aletra, 
like  a  flower  of  the  night — with  all  the  mysterious  grace 
of  alluring,  enchanting,  forbidden  womanhood — burned 
into  his  brain,  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Through  different  ghazals  and  old  Arabic  and  Per- 
sian verse,  she  told  the  story  of  all  loves — the  desire, 
the  heart-break,  the  surrender,  the  final  merging  into 
tragedy  or  infinite  satisfaction — and  then  she  stopped. 
But  the  last  word  blended  so  gently  into  the  silence  as 
to  seem  a  soothing  emanation  from  the  fragrance  of 
the  scented  African  night. 

"It  is  beautiful,"  sighed  Jeppa.  Zulaykha  appeared 
to  doze  lightly ;  for  what  is  the  song  of  the  love-bird  to 
the  dream  of  the  first  nestling  ?  Attar  said  nothing,  and 
Aletra  turned  toward  the  casement  in  the  wall. 

"Behold!"   she  cried,   and  pointed  with  arms  out- 


THREE  DOVES  IN  A  COTE  11 

stretched  and  head  turned,  "Behold  the  moon  shineth 
upon  the  mosque!  Wake  thou,  Zulaykha,  and  make  a 
wish.  It  will  touch  the  minaret  before  thou  canst  reach 
the  casement." 

"Thou,  O  Aletra,  canst  make  thy  wish  for  my  safe 
return  while  I  wander  in  strange  lands/'  said  Attar 
softly. 

Her  voice  trembled  as  she  answered : 

"At  every  call  of  the  muezzin." 

Her  eyes  were  not  raised  toward  the  mosque;  for 
the  space  of  a  moment  they  sought  the  master's  face. 
Neither  looked  he  upon  the  mosque.  Aletra  held  his 
gaze. 

Zulaykha,  who  had  but  seemed  to  doze,  saw  the 
look,  and  in  that  moment  all  the  soft  docile  charm  of 
her  olive  face  vanished,  and  a  dark  tenseness  seemed 
to  clothe  her.  None  saw  the  look.  It  passed  swiftly 
as  the  shadow  of  a  bird  upon  the  wing — and  when 
Jeppa  spoke  to  her  she  answered  in  all  sweetness. 

Then,  with  the  arrogance  of  one  who  expects  to  give 
a  son  to  the  master,  she  besought  fate  for  the  safe  birth 
of  a  man-child  with  fair  hair  and  sturdy  limbs.  Aletra 
had  no  child  or  the  prospect  of  such  a  blessing,  and 
Zulaykha  besought  Allah  with  wild  fierceness  that  he 
never  permit  her  to  bear  a  child  for  the  master,  only 
girls.  For  in  Islam,  a  child  means  a  boy. 

The  heavy  flowers  of  the  Bougainvillea  that  covered 
the  white  wall  around  the  harem  court  looked  black  in 
the  shadows,  and  the  leaves  of  the  date-palms  seemed 
like  etchings  of  ink  upon  a  lambent  field — like  fingers 
of  fate  stretched  toward  the  silver  mystery  of  the 
night.  Above  the  high  wall,  the  mosque  rose  darkly  in 
the  distance.  But  even  as  they  looked,  it  turned  to 


12  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

shimmering  silver — as  if  a  veil,  thin  as  air,  light  as  star- 
dust,  had  been  silently  spread,  luminous,  gleaming,  on 
the  dew-wet  places  till  it  glistened,  sparkled,  scintil- 
lated, on  the  tiled  sides  of  the  minaret.  The  moon  had 
risen  over  Tunis. 

Attar  sighed  deeply. 

"The  night  groweth  old,  my  children,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  Jeppa.  "I  had  not  thought  it  so  late,"  he  con- 
tinued in  apology  to  her. 

"We  can  sleep  when  thou  art  gone,"  she  answered. 

Reluctantly  he  closed  the  casement  where  Aletra 
stood,  still  looking,  still  wishing — what? 

"Good  night,  O  Zulaykha,"  said  Jeppa,  admonish- 
ingly.  "Keep  the  mists  from  coming  in  thy  casement. 
And  thou,  Aletra,"  turning  with  a  tenderer  warmth 
toward  the  other,  "remember  thou  art  not  really  a  night- 
ingale, nor  yet  a  rose.  Seek  thy  bed — thou  needest 
rest." 

She  spoke  as  a  mother  might. 

"Sweet  one,  let  me  tarry  still  a  moment,  for  the 
moon  yet  lies  upon  the  mosque,"  answered  Aletra,  who 
had  opened  the  casement  a  little  way  to  look  again 
upon  the  night. 

"Stay,  then,  but  not  overlong.  See,  Zulaykha  hath 
gone,  and  the  master  will  hold  me  accountable  for  his 
nightingale." 

"I  will  stay  but  a  short  moment,"  said  the  girl. 

"Good  night,  O  Aletra,"  said  Attar  as  he  led  Jeppa 
to  her  part  of  the  harem.  A  moment  more  and  she  had 
passed  within  the  room,  but  he  paused  in  the  doorway, 
for  Aletra  had  not  answered.  Very  softly,  as  if  Allah 
or  his  listening  soul  might  hear,  he  whispered  with 
infinite  tenderness: 


THEEE  DOVES  IN  A  COTE  13 

"Aletra!" 

He  held  out  his  arms  as  he  spoke.  She  heard,  but 
did  not  see.  He  waited  for  her  to  turn,  but  she  did  not. 
She  was  at  war  with  Allah  and  his  law;  she  dared  not 
look.  Then  she  said: 

"Good  night,  my  master."    It  was  almost  a  sob. 

Attar  took  a  step  forward.  His  face  was  pale,  his 
eyes  tragic  with  the  weight  of  the  law  of  Allah. 

Aletra  did  not  turn,  but  buried  her  face  in  her  arms. 
He  took  another  step  toward  her,  then  paused.  Jeppa 
was  moving  about  in  the  room — but  he  did  not  go  in. 
He  stood  irresolute — torn  between  the  primal  instinct 
for  the  one  woman  and  an  inherited  tradition — in  an 
agony  of  indecision.  He  took  another  step  forward — 
wavered,  then  quickly  turning,  passed  within  to  Jeppa 
and  closed  the  olive-wood  door. 


CHAPTER  II 


LONG  before  the  breaking  of  dawn  the  household  of 
Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen  was  astir,  for  with  the 
muezzin's  call  to  sunrise  prayer  the  master  would  begin 
his  journey  to  the  far  distant  Occident.  Even  in  the 
harem  the  children  were  awakened  after  the  first  sleepy 
crowing  of  the  cocks. 

There  was  Hamed,  first  and  most  important  of  all, 
the  eldest  son,  by  Jeppa.  He  was  now  fourteen,  and 
many  had  been  the  talks  of  getting  him  a  wife.  Such 
girl-children  of  ten  or  twelve  as  were  taken  to  the 
baths  commanded  Jeppa's  closest  attention. 

For  the  young  men  of  the  Orient  are  indebted  to 
their  mothers  for  their  first  wives.  Education  and 
accomplishments  enter  into  the  consideration,  but  birth, 
beauty,  health,  and  the  ability  to  embroider  are  essen- 
tials. Yet  no  girl  had  commended  herself  sufficiently 
in  Jeppa's  eyes  to  be  worthy  of  her  beautiful  boy. 

Then  there  was  Selim,  a  nephew,  a  lad  of  seventeen, 
who  was  to  follow  Attar  in  half  a  year  with  merchan- 
dise that  the  camels  would  bring  from  across  the  desert. 
He  was  tall,  but  slim  and  pale.  He  had  lately  broken 
his  leg  and  still  walked  with  supports. 

There  were  also  two  other  children,  girls,  who  were 
in  the  harem  with  the  women.  One  of  them  belonged 

14 


"WEAK  FOE  LOVE  OF  THEE"  15 

to  Jeppa — Zema,  who  was  eight  years  old.  The  other, 
Zittarra,  was  the  child  of  a  kinsman  who  had  perished 
in  the  desert  ten  years  before. 

Zittarra  could  embroider  more  beautifully  than  any 
other  girl  of  her  age.  Already  there  had  been  two 
askings  for  her  in  marriage.  Though  she  was  not  quite 
thirteen,  she  was  finely  developed  and  of  modest  mien, 
and  her  beauty  occasioned  much  admiration  in  the 
baths.  These  all  shared  Attar's  fatherly  attention. 

Again  and  again  he  folded  each  child  in  his  arms 
with  great  affection,  and  many  were  the  admonishing, 
tender  or  encouraging  words  he  gave  them  on  this,  his 
last  morning  at  home. 

Of  the  women  Zulaykha  was  the  chief  recipient  of 
his  attentions — she  being  so  near  to  becoming  a  mother. 

Many  times  had  the  master  and  Zulaykha  discussed 
the  naming  of  the  babe  that  would  come  in  his  absence. 
But  it  was  only  on  this  morning  that  they  decided 
that,  if  it  were  a  boy,  it  should  be  called  Jafiz,  and  if  a 
girl,  Shireen. 

"Jeppa,"  said  Attar,  when  he  had  soothed  Zulaykha, 
"thou  wilt  buy  what  silks  and  canvas  thou  shalt  need 
at  Verna's  Bazaar,  and  teach  Zema  her  lute,  and  have 
good  care  that  Hamed  take  not  the  fever " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  little  Zema's  kisses  as  she 
clung  to  him,  begging: 

"Bring  to  me  a  golden  mendeel  with  jewels  when 
thou  returnest." 

"Yea !    That  will  I,"  he  answered. 

"Forget  not  my  horse,"  cried  Hamed  through  the 
casement,  "and  a  sword,  O  my  father!" 

"Is  that  all  thou  cravest?"  asked  Attar. 


16 

"Yea,  I  would  rather  have  them  than  a  wife — I 
like  not  girls." 

"Thou  art  wise,  my  son.  It  troubleth  the  heart  to 
get  them,  and  it  breaketh  the  heart  to  leave  them." 

With  this  he  embraced  Zulaykha — his  Tuesday  wife 
— and  tried  to  dry  her  tears  with  his  kerchief.  The 
children  cried  and  clung  about  their  father  with  the 
tenacity  of  imperious  youth. 

Jeppa  was  pale,  but  soothed  little  Zema  with  loving 
words  and  promises.  She  possessed  the  grace  of  ex- 
treme womanliness,  impossible  for  manhood  to  ignore. 
Feeling  this,  Attar  reached  over  Zulaykha's  head  and, 
laying  his  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulders,  said : 

"May  Allah  guide  and  keep  thee,  O  Jeppa — thee 
and  thy  children.  Thou  art  in  truth  my  good  wife,  and 
I  will  love  thee  well." 

Jeppa  raised  her  eyes.  In  them  lay  the  world- 
old  look  of  womanhood — inscrutable,  mysterious, 
disconcerting. 

"I  will  treasure  thy  words,"  she  answered  with 
lowered  eyes — that  gave  him  the  sense  of  having  seen 
into  a  strange  country,  and  then  suddenly  having  had 
it  closed  from  his  view.  Zulaykha's  weeping  became 
hysterical  as  the  time  of  parting  grew  near — visions  of 
disaster  tormented  her. 

"We  shall  never  see  thee  again !  My  boy  will  never 
hear  thee  calling  Allah's  blessings  upon  his  head !"  she 
moaned. 

"Peace,  Zulaykha !  Art  thou  not  of  the  faithful  ? 
Canst  thou  not  trust  the  might  of  Allah's  hand  to  bear 
me  back  again?" 

"Yea,  O  master;  I  will  try.    But  if  the  water  or  the 


"WEAK  FOR  LOVE  OF  THEE"  17 

ravening  world  of  which  thou  hast  told  us  should  con- 
sume thee,  or  I  should  go  while  giving  life  to  thy  child, 
make  thou  a  tryst  with  me,  I  pray,  in  paradise,  that  I 
may  be  again  with  thee  and  hear  thy  voice!"  she  said 
brokenly. 

"It  shall  be  as  thou  sayest,  Zulaykha.  If  aught 
befall  me,  I  shall  call  thee,  too,  to  paradise.  Now,  dry 
thine  eyes  and  cheer  thy  heart — for  naught  is  there  in 
the  great  world  to  fear,  and  always  at  the  hour  of 
prayer,  though  I  hear  not  the  muezzin's  call,  my  heart 
will  turn  to  Allah.  Fear  not,  and  let  thy  parting 
courage  give  me  peace  to  carry  on  my  journey." 

As  he  spoke  he  soothed  the  weeping  woman  with 
tender  looks  and  soft  caresses.  But  even  as  the  words 
fell  from  his  lips  he  wondered  that  Aletra  came  not 
before  him. 

At  first  he  was  not  sorry  to  have  it  so,  for  Jeppa 
perhaps  had  seen  enough  to  wound  her  gentle  heart  the 
night  before — and  he  was  trying  to  live  a  blameless  life 
before  Allah.  But  when  Aletra  did  not  come,  and  it 
neared  the  time  of  his  departure,  he  grew  anxious. 

"She,  too,  hath  had  her  struggle  through  the  long 
white  hours  of  the  night,  even  as  I ;  she,  too,  hath  con- 
quered, even  as  I,"  he  thought.  But  he  listened  for 
her  footsteps  and  grew  restless. 

When  at  last  there  remeained  but  half  an  hour  he 
asked  Jeppa: 

"Where  is  Aletra  ?    She  waketh  late  on  such  a  day." 

And  Jeppa  answered: 

"Blame  her  not,  O  master — she  loveth  thee  well,  as 
thou  knowest,  and  hath  gone  to  the  bazaar,  that  she 
may  get  thee  a  parting  gift  to  take  away  with  thee." 


18  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Even  while  Jeppa  was  speaking  a  wave  of  great 
happiness  rushed  over  him,  and  his  voice  was  as  soft 
as  the  wind  in  spring-time  when  he  objected: 

"But  the  distance  is  great.  She  may  not  return  in 
time!" 

Then  Jeppa  veiled  her  eyes  and  answered  low  so 
that  Zulaykha  might  not  hear: 

"Her  way  is  past  the  road  to  the  harbor  where  thy 
ship  lieth.  If  she  come  not  here  in  time  thou  wilt  meet 
her  on  the  way." 

Then,  though  she  saw  it  not,  his  eyes  beamed  upon 
her  with  such  gratitude  that  almost  it  had  seemed 
love,  but  it  was  not.  For  though  he  thought  his  heart 
was  full  and  overflowing  he  had  not  yet  known  love. 

The  precious  moments  passed.  They  could  not  fly 
too  swiftly — for  to  part  with  Aletra  with  no  other  eye 
to  see  was  something  he  had  not  dared  to  pray  for. 

Zulaykha  still  moaned  her  omens  of  disaster,  but  she 
had  grown  less  vehement,  and  there  was  resignation  in 
her  cry:  "Salaam  Alek!"  The  children  echoed  Zu- 
laykha's  lamentations.  Jeppa  alone  stood  calm,  reas- 
suring, comforting. 

"It  is  time  that  thou  didst  go,"  she  said  at  last.  "I 
will  do  what  is  in  the  path  before  me.  Comfort  thou 
thine  heart  that  all  will  be  well  in  thy  harem,  and  have 
no  evil  forebodings  about  thy  journey.  Allah  will  keep 
thee  safe." 

Almost  reverently  Attar  put  his  hand  upon  her  head 
without  speech,  for  his  heart  was  full.  Then,  turning, 
he  again  embraced  each  of  the  children  and  repeated  the 
bismillah,  without  which  no  Moslem  begins  a  journey; 
then  turned  and  almost  fled  out  of  the  harem,  out  of  the 
courtyard,  into  the  street,  into  the  gray  dawn,  where 
Aletra  waited. 


"WEAK  FOE  LOVE  OF  THEE"  19 

But  when  the  gate  of  the  harem  had  closed  upon  him 
Zulaykha  rose  and  her  face  grew  dark. 

"Aletra?"  she  questioned.  "What  didst  thou  mur- 
mur to  the  master  concerning  Aletra?  And  where 
hideth  she  that  she  may  steal  the  master's  love?" 

"Peace,  Zulaykha,"  said  Jeppa  softly. 

"Peace  sayest  thou?  Peace  bideth  not  in  a  house 
where  one  craveth  all." 

Jeppa  made  no  answer ;  the  Egyptian  crouched  again 
upon  the  rugs  in  sullen  anger. 

Attar  had  gone  some  distance  when  he  passed  an 
ancient  temple.  Stopping  to  look  about  him  he  felt  a 
touch — light  as  the  dropping  of  a  leaf — upon  his  arm. 
Impatient  of  the  delay  he  questioned : 

"Who  art  thou  ?  And  what  wilt  thou  ?  I  am  in  haste 
to  go  to  meet  my  ship." 

"O  master!"  came  a  voice  from  the  folds  of  the  veil. 

"Aletra !  Thou !"  he  said  softly ;  and  drew  her  into 
the  shadow  of  the  wall.  With  impatient  fingers  he 
lifted  her  veil  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"O  master,  master!"  she  sobbed,  and  her  soul  was 
on  her  lips.  "I  cannot  let  thee  go." 

"Nay,  thou  shouldst  be  brave  like  unto  Jeppa,"  he 
chided  fondly. 

"Ah,  Jeppa  hath  her  children  that  are  of  thee,  and 
Zulaykha  her  hope,  and  the  children  have  their  dreams 
— but  I  have  only  thee." 

In  the  hidden  recess  of  the  ruins  where  they  stood 
she  dropped  the  dark  haik  from  her  shoulders  and 
threw  her  arms  before  her  face. 

"Nay,  but  thou  knowest  that  it  is  meet  that  I  go, 
my  Flower  of  Paradise.  It  is  the  will  of  Allah,"  he 
remonstrated  soothingly. 

"I  cannot  let  thee  go,"  she  said  again. 


20  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

He  took  her  slender  hands  from  before  her  face  and 
placed  them  about  his  neck.  The  contact  calmed  the 
white  anguish  in  her  face,  and  as  he  put  his  arm  about 
her  she  trembled.  Her  body  swayed  like  a  reed  on  his 
supporting  arm,  and  when  his  lips  touched  hers  and 
lingered  in  their  ardor  she  scarcely  breathed  in  the 
supremacy  of  her  happiness — the  divine  sufficiency  of 
love's  moment — lest  he  note  the  time  and  release  her. 

She  saw  his  face  bent  above  her ;  she  felt  the  strength 
of  his  arm,  and  would  have  been  content  to  die,  for  the 
bliss  of  eternity  was  crowded  into  the  flying  moments. 
She  lay  in  his  arms  almost  inert,  yielding,  half  aswoon. 

He  bent  his  head,  and  his  eyes  feasted  upon  the 
lissom  figure  in  its  clinging  garments.  The  grace  of 
the  delicate  limbs,  the  absolute  abandon,  the  childish 
helplessness,  the  heavenly  sweetness  of  her  brows  and 
mouth  and  closed  eyes  and  curved  cheek  as  she  swayed 
like  a  flower  in  his  arms  delighted  him.  His  gaze 
consumed  her ;  she  felt  it  through  the  magic  of  a  sense 
we  comprehend  not.  A  slight  tenseness  ran  through 
the  slim  body,  and  the  faintest  movement  of  resistance. 
But  Attar  crushed  her  to  him  and  again  sought  her 
lips.  The  clinging  tenderness  of  his  kisses  robbed  her 
of  all  strength,  and  she  surrendered  her  will,  as  she 
had  her  flowerlike  body,  to  the  strength  of  his  caresses. 

Then  suddenly  a  great  shame  fell  upon  her.  With 
her  soft  hands  she  lifted  his  head,  and,  looking  into 
the  fire  of  his  eyes,  whispered  despairingly: 

"Thou  lovest  me  not." 

"I  love  thee  not  ?" 

"Nay — thou  lovest  me  not,  O  master!" 

"And  thinkest  thou  I  know  not  the  time  is  fleeing! 
Hast  thou  not  made  a  coward  of  me  ?  Am  I  not  grown 
so  weak  for  love  of  thee  that  I  sail  not  to-day  ?" 


"WEAK  FOR  LOVE  OF  THEE"  21 

"Not  sail  today,  thou  sayest?" 

"Nay." 

"Thou  wilt  sail  to-day,"  she  answered,  and  she  tried 
to  free  herself ;  but  he  would  not  let  her  go. 

H)e  drew  her  closer,  and  began  in  a  softer  tone : 

"My  cherry-blossom,  my  cassiabud,  my  beautiful 
hyacinth — thou  art  sweeter  than  all  the  spices  in  the 
Sultan's  seraglio,  O  delight  of  my  heart!  Last  night 
it  seemed  as  if  thou  hadst  a  bird  imprisoned  in  thy 
throat  that  could  make  men  forget  all — honor,  right, 
Allah  himself — and  I  tried  to  hold  the  thought  of  thee 
from  me  as  I  would  one  of  the  great  sins,  as  became  the 
husband  of  so  perfect  a  wife  as  Jeppa.  For  it  was 
Monday,  and  Monday  was  hers.  But  when  I  slept, 
when  my  soul  was  free,  I  dreamed  of  thee — O  Aletra, 
I  dreamed  of  thee!"  he  repeated  softly. 

"And  I  dreamed  of  thee,"  she  whispered. 

"And  what  was  thy  dream  ?" 

"I  dreamed,"  she  answered — and  her  eyes  looked 
into  the  distance,  as  one  who  sees  into  the  unseen,  and 
her  words  came  slowly  and  very  low — "I  dreamed  that 
I  knew  thou  didst  love  me;  that  there  was  a  great 
throng,  greater  than  a  thousand  caravans  coming  in 
from  the  desert — all  strange. 

"I  dreamed  that  I  had  lost  thee,  and  my  search  was 
as  for  a  grain  of  millet  in  the  sands  of  the  Sahara,  or 
on  the  shore  of  the  sea;  and — and — then  I  heard  thee 
say :  'Aletra,  I  love  thee  well ;  and  time  and  multitude 
and  distance  are  as  nothing  in  the  hand  of  love.'  And 
then  I  felt  thy  arms  about  me,  even  as  now." 

Again  he  strained  her  to  him,  but  she  resisted. 

"Why  dost  thou  turn  from  me?"  he  asked  im- 
patiently. 

"It  is  time  that  thou  didst  go." 


22  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Nay,  for  I  go  not  to-day.  I  wait  another  ship — 
another  Wednesday,"  he  said  softly. 

"But  thy  holdings  are  in  this?" 

"They  are  safe." 

"Nay,  thou  goest  now.     There  still  is  time." 

With  this  she  tried  to  free  herself  from  the  great 
arms  that  held  her.  So  they  stood,  she  who  had  flown 
to  him  trying  to  release  herself.  At  last  he  let  his  arms 
fall  from  her  and  stood  back. 

"It  is  thou  who  lovest  me  not,"  he  said  reproachfully. 

Then  Aletra  lifted  her  eyes.  There  was  in  them 
that  which  he  never  had  seen  before.  So  the  houris  of 
paradise  must  look,  he  thought,  when  they  proffer  the 
essence  of  love  that  has  passed  through  its  last  dis- 
tillation and  has  been  purified  of  Allah.  So  frail,  so 
heaven-born  sweet,  she  looked,  that  he  dared  not  touch 
her. 

He  had  told  her  that  she  did  not  love  him;  and  for 
answer,  she  had  lifted  a  corner  of  the  curtain  of  para- 
dise, and  shown  him  her  soul,  stainless  in  its  purity, 
perfect  in  its  love.  As  he  looked,  the  burning,  eager 
splendor  of  his  eyes  changed,  and  a  new  light  shone 
from  them ;  and  his  countenance  was  transformed. 

So  love  quickened  and  was  born  in  his  consciousness. 
And  though  they  touched  each  other  not  so  much  as  by 
the  tips  of  their  fingers,  they  were  nearer  than  the 
rapturous  ardor  of  clinging  lips  had  ever  brought  them. 

"Now,  O  My  Heart,  shalt  thou  go,"  she  whispered. 

"Yea,  but  I  go  not  alone.    Thy  love  goeth  with  me." 

"And  I  stay  not  alone,  for  thy  love  bideth  beside 
me,"  she  answered. 

The  newly  risen  sun  touched  the  dome  of  the  distant 
mosque  as  with  a  thousand  golden  spears;  and  the 


"WEAK  FOR  LOVE  OF  THEE"  23 

muezzin's  call  floated  to  them  on  the  breath  of  the 
morning  wind ;  but  when  it  had  ceased  Aletra  cried : 

"Haste,  haste!  Thy  ship,  thy  ship!"  and  she  pointed 
toward  the  harbor.  But  Attar,  still  dazed  with  the 
new  mystery  of  womanhood,  said: 

"I  go.  But  how  canst  thou  send  me  now,  when  thou 
hast  cried  within  the  hour:  '0  master,  I  cannot  let 
thee  go'  ?" 

And  she  made  answer  with  feigned  lightness  to  hide 
the  tears  that  were  so  near: 

"Knowest  thou  not  that  it  is  harder  for  a  woman 
to  part  from  the  man  she  loveth,  if  he  would  go,  than 
if  he  would  tarry?" 

With  this  she  gathered  her  veil  that  she  had  cast 
aside,  and  made  it  fast  with  trembling  fingers. 

"Thou  hast  not  the  space  of  a  moment  to  lose,"  she 
counseled.  "Go  thou,  and  Allah  and  my  love  go  with 
thee." 

Then,  seeing  that  he  would  tarry,  she  gathered  her 
Jiabrah  about  her  and  fled. 

Attar  called  to  her  and  started  to  follow,  but  she 
heeded  him  not  as  she  sped  swiftly  on  between  the 
crumbled  walls  of  the  temple.  Seeing  that  she  would 
not  obey  he  paused,  and  looking  up  beheld  her  on  a 
part  of  the  ruin  just  above  him. 

"O  master,  master,"  she  said  slowly.  "An  thou 
knowest  love,  which  in  truth  is  the  essence  of  wisdom, 
hasten  thou  with  all  speed  to  thy  ship." 

Then,  as  Attar  looked  for  a  foothold  to  reach  her,  she 
turned  and  once  more  vanished  between  the  broken 
columns.  When  her  face  no  longer  tempted  him  he 
thought  of  her  words: 


24  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"An  thou  knowest  love,  which  in  truth  is  the  essence 
of  wisdom,  hasten  thou  with  all  speed  to  thy  ship." 

And,  sighing,  he  took  his  way  toward  the  road  to 
the  harbor. 

Attar  Al  Hassen  had  scant  time  to  reach  the  waterside 
and  embark. 

As  the  ship  swung  into  the  golden  path  of  the  newly 
risen  sun  he  strained  his  eyes  for  a  sight  of  the  fleeing 
black  figure  of  Aletra.  Back  and  forth  his  gaze  roamed 
from  the  ruins  to  different  openings  or  gates  in  the 
walls  of  the  fast  receding  city,  but  he  could  catch  no 
glimpse  of  her. 

Then  suddenly  he  saw  her.  She  had  not  left  the 
ruins,  but  had  wound  her  way  between  the  fallen  walls 
and  pillars,  each  higher  than  the  othor,  till  at  last  she 
stood  clear  against  the  sky,  upon  the  furthermost  pro- 
jection looking  toward  the  sea.  The  sun  was  full  upon 
her. 

As  he  looked,  she  unwound  her  veil  and  let  it  float 
like  a  misty  cloud  of  incense  as  if  it  would  remind  him 
of  its  lingering  perfume  of  lotus  and  amber,  which 
still  clung  to  his  garments. 

"Aletra!"  he  said  softly;  "Aletra!" 

As  if  she  had  heard,  the  tiny  glint  of  white  shone 
for  the  time  of  a  breath  against  the  gray  veil.  Then, 
as  a  silver  cloud  obscured  the  intense  brightness  of  the 
sun,  she  disappeared  like  a  vapor,  leaving  no  trace,  and 
he  saw  her  no  longer. 


CHAPTEK  III 

WORD    FROM    THE    MASTER AND    A    DREAD 

IT  was  August  in  the  harem  court  of  Attar  ahu 
Hamed  al  Hassen.  Two  months  had  passed  since  the 
master  had  journeyed  to  the  far  Occident  with  rugs 
and  silks  and  precious  carvings.  His  three  wives  now 
sat  upon  the  rugs,  much  as  they  had  sat  the  evening 
before  his  departure — Jeppa  next  to  the  main  opening, 
embroidering,  as  also  was  Aletra. 

The  mid-summer  heat  drew  the  perfume  from  the 
very  heart  of  the  roses,  even  as  their  stems  grew  weak 
and  let  the  burden  of  blossoms  droop  their  heads  like 
tired  maidens  at  noontime. 

The  heavy  flowers  of  the  Bougainvillea,  warmly 
purple,  showed  upon  the  white  wall  of  the  court  be- 
yond. A  small  lemon  tree  cast  a  light  shade  upon  the 
ground.  Zulaykha  held  her  babe  up  for  the  hundredth 
time  to  trace  the  lineaments  of  Attar  in  its  unmolded 
countenance. 

"Hamed  hath  looked  thus  when  he  was  a  babe,"  said 
Jeppa.  Zulaykha  turned  half  indignantly,  and  cast  a 
doubting  look  upon  her. 

"Had  he  so  strong  and  lusty  a  body,  then  ?" 

And  Jeppa,  looking  again  upon  the  infant,  an- 
swered : 

"Nay,  he  was  stricken  with  a  fever  that  would  not 

25 


26  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

mend.  And  the  master  feared  that  he  would  not  long 
bless  our  lives."  Then  she  added  softly :  "But  I  knew 
that  he  would." 

"How  didst  thou  know?"  asked  Zulaykha,  putting 
her  hand  to  her  own  child's  head  lovingly.  Then  she 
added  in  agitation: 

"Feel  thou  his  brow,  O  Jeppa.  Doth  it  not  seem 
hot  to  thee  ?" 

Jeppa  slowly  fastened  her  needle  in  her  work,  and 
felt  the  infant's  head.  Then  she  smiled,  and  said : 

"Nay,  Zulaykha,  all  is  well  with  him;  but  thou  wilt 
have  many  frights  before  he  doth  see  his  first  year. 
They  are  a  part  of  motherhood." 

Aletra  lifted  her  head  to  a  rose-jar  that  stood  near 
an  opening  in  the  harem  court  where  they  sat. 

"They  have  both  given  sons  to  Attar,"  she  thought, 
"while  I  am  like  the  roses  wilting  in  the  cool  kiosks" ; 
and  she  sighed. 

"What  lieth  so  heavy  upon  thy  heart,  Aletra  ?"  asked 
Jeppa.  "Is  aught  amiss  with  thy  altar-cloth?" 

"Nay;  it  groweth  under  my  hands  well,"  she 
answered. 

"But  thinkest  thou  such  dogs  of  Christians  will  like 
a  mosque  broidered  upon  their  altars  ?"  asked  Zulaykha, 
stroking  the  head  of  her  sleeping  child. 

For  the  piece  Aletra  was  working  on  was  to  go  to 
an  English  church. 

"I  doubt  it  not,"  said  Aletra.  "For  hath  not  the 
master  told  us  of  great  temples  fashioned  like  the 
mosques  of  the  Byzantines  even  in  the  far  New  Coun- 
try where  he  now  journeyeth  ?" 

"It  should  be  a  great  land,"  said  Jeppa,  "taking  five 
days'  swift  travel  to  get  from  one  side  to  the  other." 


WORD  FEOM  THE  MASTEE  27 

"He  saith  no  word  of  bringing  any  other  wife  from 
that  country.  It  would  cost  much ;  it  is  so  far.  I  pray 
he  do  not.  And  what  sayest  thou,  Aletra?"  smiled 
Zulaykha.  For  the  coming  of  a  new  wife  is  usually 
felt  the  worst  by  the  last  one  preceding  when  the  num- 
ber of  wives  is  small,  especially  if  a  stranger  is  selected 
by  the  husband. 

"I  care  not,"  answered  Aletra  while  a  smile  and 
rosy  blush  mounted  to  her  brow  at  the  memory  of  her 
parting  with  Attar. 

"So  thou  sayest  now,"  laughed  Zulaykha,  "But 
wait  till  he  entereth  with  some  golden-haired  lily  of  the 
West,  and  biddeth  thee  love  her  for  his  sake. 
Then- 

"Then,"  quickly  interrupted  Aletra,  "should  I  love 
her  for  his  sake.  It  could  not  make  as  much  as  the 
weight  of  a  feather  difference." 

Jeppa  always  had  admired  Aletra,  But  as  she 
looked  at  her  now — calm,  beautiful,  without  fear — she 
loved  her. 

Jeppa  had  been  selected  for  Attar  by  his  mother 
when  she  was  but  ten  years  old;  and  the  first  few 
months  after  she  was  brought  to  the  harem,  she  was  a 
frightened  child.  Two  years  later  his  mother  died ;  and 
in  soothing  the  boy-husband's  sorrow,  she  had  begun  a 
comprehending,  comforting  friendship. 

This  friendship  lasted  through  the  years.  But  love, 
timid  and  trembling  at  the  door  of  her  heart,  had  been 
frightened  away  when  Zulaykha  was  given  to  Attar  by 
a  great  ameer  and  was  made  welcome  as  a  wife.  She 
loved  Attar,  but  the  full  expression  of  her  affection 
was  only  for  her  children,  and  of  late  for  Aletra. 


28  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Why  carest  thou  not?"  persisted  Zulaykha  tor- 
mentingly. 

"For  that  it  maketh  no  difference,"  said  Aletra 
sweetly. 

"Oh,  oh !  Art  thou  then  so  sure  of  always  being  the 
favorite?"  said  Zulaykha. 

"Peace,  peace !"  interrupted  Jeppa.  "When  one  day 
of  the  week  is  greater  than  another,  then  will  there  be 
favorites." 

"Thou  art  right,  O  Jeppa,"  said  Aletra. 

Having  spoken,  she  began  to  fold  her  work.  There 
was  a  deft  grace  about  the  movement  that  made  it  a 
delight  to  look  upon.  As  she  leaned  lightly  against  the 
rose-jar,  she  smiled  upon  Jeppa;  the  smile  lingered  like 
a  clinging  caress  and  its  winning  sweetness  warmed 
the  heart  of  the  older  woman. 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  after  Jeppa' s  reproof, 
which  presently  was  broken  by  the  call  to  evening 
prayer,  "Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!  Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!"  As  the 
three  women  prostrated  themselves,  a  spear  of  sunshine 
shot  through  an  opening  in  the  walled  court  and,  like 
a  benediction  from  the  skies,  touched  Aletra's  head 
with  its  brightness. 

The  place  was  silent.  No  sound  of  traffic  or  speech 
marred  the  sudden  stillness — only  the  slow  sonorous 
chant  of  the  muezzin:  "God  is  most  great!  God  is 
most  great!" 

The  slanting  sunlight  touched  the  little  group  with 
the  magic  of  beauty.  A  bee  drowsed  languidly  over 
the  roses.  The  yellow  curtains  floated  softly  in  the 
casement  openings.  The  spell  of  the  hour  was  over  all. 
The  chanting  continued,  "Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!  Allah  hu 
Ak  Bar!"  Then  it  ceased,  and  a  great  wave  of  sound 
like  the  surge  of  the  sea,  filled  the  world  about. 


WORD  FEOM  THE  MASTER  29 

The  moment  with  Allah  in  the  silence  was  past. 
The  three  women  rose,  smiled  at  each  other,  and  Jeppa 
and  Aletra  folded  their  work  while  Zulaykha  still 
fondled  her  babe.  The  day  was  coming  to  a  close,  as 
many  other  days  had  come  and  gone,  without  incident 
— for  this  is  the  manner  of  harem  life — when  Hamed 
rushed  to  his  mother,  crying: 

"A  letter!    A  letter!" 

Instantly  there  was  a  great  stir,  and  exclamations  of 
impatience  came  from  Zulaykha  and  Hamed  as  Jeppa 
opened  the  letter  and  silently  scanned  the  first  pages. 

"Allah  is  merciful  and  compassionate,"  she  said. 
"All  is  well.  I  will  read  it  to  ye."  And  she  read: 

"Blessing  upon  thee,  O  Jeppa: 

"Allah  be  with  thee  in  the  brightness  of  the  morning  and 
when  the  night  cometh  down  in  darkness  with  thee  and 
Zulaykha  and  Aletra,  and  all  that  are  in  my  harem. 

"I  am  alone  in  a  great  khan — a  hotel,  they  call  it — thinking 
of  my  sun  and  my  moon  and  my  stars  in  the  little  court  gar- 
den beyond  the  waters  and  the  land  that  stretcheth  between. 

"What  civilization  is  this,  that  separateth  a  man  from  his 
wives !  But  for  the  laws  made  by  these  pigs  of  Christians, 
thou  and  Zulaykha  and  Aletra  would  be  here  with  me — and 
I  would  be  happy.  As  it  is,  I  turn  my  face  to  the  East,  and 
wish  for  mine  own — they  that  Allah,  out  of  his  bounty,  hath 
given  me. 

"I  hunger  with  a  great  desire  for  the  sound  of  soft 
voices  and  a  word  in  Arabic,  and  the  thirst  of  my  heart 
will  not  be  slaked.  I  laugh  aloud  at  the  simple  thought  of 
these  infidels.  But  yesterday,  one  bath  said  to  me:  'Dost 
thou  not  think  it  better  to  have  one  wife,  as  is  our  custom 
here?' 

"And  I  made  answer:  'N"ay!  Nay!  I  think  it  most  un- 
seemly.' 

"And  again  I  told  him:  It  would  be  the  work  of  three 
wives  to  do  that  which  your  wife  doeth  of  work  in  the  harem' 
— home,  they  call  it — 'ministering  to  ber  children.' 

"  'But  she  would  rather  die  than  have  me  take  another  wife, 


30  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

even  if  I  could/  he  made  answer.  And  his  one  wife,  who  was 
present — for  here,  husbands  take  any  man  into  their  harems, 
and  let  them  speak  to  their  unveiled  wives — spoke,  saying: 
'A  woman  endureth  much  for  the  surety  that  she  only  and  her 
children  will  be  cherished  by  her  husband.' 

"And  I  said  to  her:  'Ah,  madam,  our  women  are  not  like 
that.  They  love  one  another,  and  are  like  sisters;  and  the 
child  of  one  is  the  care  of  all  the  others.  They  speak  softly, 
and  move  like  the  flowers,  and  are  not  jealous.' 

"Then  I  told  them  of  thee,  Jeppa,  and  how  lonely  thou 
wouldst  be  without  Zulaykha  and  Aletra.  And  I  showed 
them  the  letter  thou  hadst  sent  me  telling  of  Zulaykha's 
beautiful  boy,  and  how  thou  didst  pray  Allah  that  night  of 
her  great  suffering.  I  had  to  translate  it,  as  she  knew  only 
her  own  tongue. 

"But  she  said  thy  writing  was  beautiful,  and  was  amazed 
that  Mohammedan  women  had  any  book  knowledge.  I  told 
her  of  Aletra's  speaking  and  writing  five  tongues,  and  of 
Zulaykha's  beautiful  embroideries,  and  of  thine  art  with  the 
flute.  As  it  was  Wednesday,  I  carried  Aletra's  kerchief  and 
I  showed  it  her;  and  she  marveled  again  that  I  had  not 
my  own  name  on  it  in  place  of  Aletra's.  Her  husband  has 
his  own  initial  on  his  kerchiefs — the  pig! 

"Ever  they  marvel  that  I  desire  not  to  live  in  their  country. 

"Nay !  Nay !  My  children  give  me  the  soft  music  of  the 
muezzin's  call,  and  the  winds  murmuring  through  mimosa 
trees,  the  rose-gardens,  the  shady  kiosks,  the  spices,  the  rugs, 
and  above  all,  the  women,  of  the  East,  with  their  uncramped 
bodies  and  screened  faces  and  soft  tongues. 

"There  are  those  here,  O  my  Doves,  who  would  come  with 
me  if  I  asked  them.  The  unveiled  eyes  of  many  are  boldly 
looking  for  men.  I  want  none  of  them — but  hunger  for  a 
sight  of  mine  own! 

"Tell  Zulaykha  to  write  everything  about  her  boy.  I  re- 
joice that  Hamed  and  Zema  heed  thy  word  and  learn  of  thee. 

"Tell  Aletra  not  to  weaken  her  eyes  working  by  night  on 
her  broidery,  as  thou  sayest  she  doth.  I  send  her  my  loving 
commands  to  get  her  rest,  and  not  sit  the  night  out." 

Here  Jeppa  paused  in  the  reading,  and  looking  at 
Aletra  said: 


WORD  FEOM  THE  MASTER  31 

"I  told  thee  I  would  tell  him!" 

Then  she  continued  to  read  minute  instructions 
about  the  buying  of  supplies,  and  other  household  mat- 
ters. Then  came  the  prayer,  without  which  the  Moslem 
never  closed  his  letter : 

"In  the  name  of  Allah,  the  Merciful,  the  Compassionate! 
May  he  protect  ye  from  the  darkness  of  the  night  which 
falleth  like  a  cloak  upon  dangers,  known  and  unknown;  and 
from  the  storm  and  the  lightning  that  issue  therefrom;  and 
preserve  thee  in  sweet  peace,  till  I  shall  come  again.  Rest 
secure,  O  little  household,  in  the  love  of  thy  absent  master. 
"ATTAR  ABU  HAMED  AL  HASSEN." 

A  sigh  of  contentment  issued  in  unison  from  the  lips 
of  the  three  women,  followed  by  a  fervent  "Great  is 
Allah !" 

"He  saith  naught  of  bringing  my  yataghan,"  said 
Hamed  disappointedly,  leaving  the  harem. 

Jeppa  still  held  the  letter,  rereading  certain  parts, 
when  she  turned  the  last  page  and  found  there  an 
added  paragraph. 

"More  followeth!"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise;  and 
she  read: 

"I  have  but  just  met  a  man  and  family,  fresh  from  Aca. 
They  tell  me  the  Imaum  there,  Abdul  Baha,  hath  ever  a 
multitude  about  him.  They  say  this  Imaum  is  the  Blessed 
Perfection,  and  many  believe  he  is  the  Messiah,  or  the  Lord 
Isa  (Jesus)  come  to  life  again. 

"This  man  from  Aca  hath  a  son  and  two  daughters.  They 
speak  Arabic,  Persian,  Spanish,  French,  and  some  English. 

"I  may  have  a  surprise  for  ye  when  I  return  to  the  East. 
I  hasten  now  with  this  to  the  ship.  Hafiz,  the  kinsman  of 
Nazar,  will  bring  it  to  thee,  and  the  time  is  short. 

"Allah  be  with  thee. 

"A." 

This  second  reading  dampened  the  sweet  sense  of 


32  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

pleasurable  security  left  by  the  first.  Jeppa  folded  the 
letter  with  great  care,  creasing  it  again  and  again,  and 
said  nothing.  Zulaykha  lifted  her  thick  brows  and 
pursed  her  lips. 

"We  might  well  expect  it,"  she  said  at  last.  "I  felt 
a  whispering  of  it." 

"Expect  what  ?"  said  Aletra,  lifting  her  head. 

"Another  wife." 

"He  saith  naught  of  another  wife  ?" 

"Nay.    But  that  is  what  he  meaneth." 

"How  knowest  thou  what  he  meaneth?"  returned 
Aletra.  But  her  face  wore  the  paleness  of  death,  and 
her  eyes  held  in  their  depths  the  inscrutable  world-old 
look  of  womanhood. 


CHAPTEK  IV 

ALETBA'S  PBAYEB  TO  THE  MOON 

IT  was  nearing  midnight  in  the  harem  of  Attar  abu 
Hamed  al  Hassen.  Jeppa  heard  Aletra  leave  her 
bed  and  make  her  way  softly  to  the  roof.  The  moon 
had  not  yet  risen  and  only  the  soft  starlight  marked 
the  shadow-wrapped  minarets  about  the  city,  the 
seraglio  in  the  distance  and  the  nearer  mosque. 

The  girl  stood  with  her  eyes  cast  down  and  her  head 
bent,  murmuring: 

"O  Allah,  most  Just,  most  Merciful,  protect  thou 
him  from  the  witchery  of  the  strangers — those  that 
look  upon  him  with  desire  and  would  tempt  him  from 
the  true  faith." 

A  thin,  gray  veil  fluttered  about  her  shoulders,  and 
her  unbound  hair  fell  about  her  face  in  billowy 
splendor. 

Jeppa  had  followed,  not  to  spy,  but  to  comfort  and 
soothe.  Now,  being  come,  she  hesitated.  Aletra  stood 
motionless  looking  toward  the  mosque,  as  if  waiting. 
Presently  long  shadows  leaped  from  the  walls  and  they 
were  dark,  threadlike,  lacy  etchings  upon  the  white 
gravel  in  the  court  below. 

Then  suddenly  the  bright  moonlight  fell  silveringly 
upon  the  shining  tiles  of  the  minarets.  And  as  Jeppa 
watched  in  the  shadow  the  girl  lifted  her  hands  and 
sank  upon  her  knees. 

33 


34:  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Allah,  Allah,  Allah!"  she  breathed.  "Tell  him 
that  Aletra  keepeth  her  tryst  with  him — that  as  the 
moon  now  shineth  upon  the  mosque  so  my  love  falleth 
upon  him.  The  country  is  far  where  he  journey  eth,  O 
heart  of  Allah!  But  the  moon  seeketh  him  out  and 
findeth  him,  even  there.  Even  so,  my  heart  goeth  across 
the  world  to  him.  Tell  him  this,  O  soul  of  Allah,  or 
I  perish. 

"Forgive  thou  my  transgressions  that  I  call  to  him 
across  the  world — for  this  being  Monday,  his  heart  be- 
longeth  to  Jeppa — the  gentle,  the  true,  the  lovely  one. 
Give  her  the  dream  of  paradise  as  she  resteth  in  chaste 
obedience  to  thy  law,  and  let  the  perfect  ones  of  para- 
dise kiss  her  brow ;  while  I — I,  in  my  torment — beseech 
thee  for  a  sign,  a  word  that  the  master  hath  not 
forgotten  me. 

"But  even,  O  most  just  Allah,  even  if  he  should  tear 
my  heart,  keep  thou  him  from  the  darkness  of  the  night 
and  the  darkness  of  the  waters,  and  preserve  him  unto 
paradise." 

Then,  as  if  in  answer  to  her  cry,  the  voice  of  the 
muezzin  floated  tenderly  on  the  midnight  air.  As  she 
prostrated  herself,  it  fell  like  answering  balm  on  her 
anguished  senses,  and  a  great  wave  of  peace  swept  over 
her,  even  as  the  dawn  creeps  over  the  hushed  darkness 
of  the  night,  revealing  the  promise  of  day. 

Jeppa  had  crept  closer  while  the  frenzy  of  the  prayer 
lasted;  so  that,  as  they  rose  when  the  muezzin's  voice 
had  died,  the  two  women  faced  each  other.  Jeppa 
opened  her  arms,  and  Aletra,  knowing  that  the  other 
had  seen  the  nakedness  of  her  soul,  fell  upon  her  neck 
and  wept. 

"My  heart,  I  am  wicked.     Touch  me  not,  lest  thy 


ALETEA'S  PKAYER  TO  THE  MOON    35 

purity  be  defiled,"  said  the  girl ;  the  older  woman  held 
her  the  tighter. 

"Answer,  for  thou  art  the  soul  of  truth,"  sobbed 
Aletra.  "How  didst  th6u  feel  when  Zulaykha  was 
brought  here?" 

Jeppa  made  no  answer. 

"Speak!" 

"It  is  so  long." 

"Yea,  but  the  memory  of  woman  is  long." 

"I  was  but  a  child." 

"Children  are  we  always ;  but  Allah  hath  given  us  to 
feel." 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Answer,  Jeppa — thou  perfect  one.  How  was  it 
with  thee  when  Zulaykha  was  brought  here?" 

Still  no  answer. 

"ISTay,  thou  shalt  not  tell  me — for  by  no  word  am  I 
answered  better  than  by  words." 

Then  Jeppa  lifted  her  head  and  said : 

"I  was  as  thou  art  now — and  thou  wilt  be  as  I  am 
now." 

"Never  I     Though  I  live  an  hundred  lives." 

"The  time  is  not  yet  fulfilled." 

"]STor  ever  will  be." 

"I  fear  nothing  from  the  master's  words,"  the  first 
wife  continued,  ignoring  the  vehement  denials  of  the 
other.  "It  is  but  the  poison  of  Zulaykha's  tongue  that 
rankleth  in  thy  bosom." 

"What  other  meaning  have  his  words?"  asked 
Aletra. 

"They  could  mean  a  thousand  things — a  pilgrimage, 
a  fortune,  gifts,  honors — anything  but  a  woman." 

"Why  not  a  woman?" 


36  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"That  least  of  all  would  he  speak  of.  He  is  a  man. 
Thou  hast  yet  that  to  learn.  Men  prate  not,  as  do 
women,  of  that  which  they  know  causeth  trouble.  They 
act." 

"But,  my  eyes " 

"There  is  yet  another  reason." 

"What  reason?" 

"He  loveth  thee  too  well." 

"Jeppa,  I  bade  him  Salaam  Alek  alone — I  robbed 
Zulaykha  of  one  moment  of  bliss." 

"I  know,"  said  Jeppa, 

"How  didst  thou  know?"  with  surprise  as  she  held 
Jeppa  from  her  and  looked  questioningly  into  her  eyes. 

"I  sent  him." 

"Thou!" 

"Yea — I  told  him  thou  wouldst  meet  him  on  the 
way;  and  he  hath  not  been  able  to  conceal  his  joy — nay, 
consume  me  not  with  thy  kisses,"  she  added. 

"Thou  hast  brought  the  blossom  of  comfort  to  my 
heart.  Of  a  truth,  Allah  hath  given  me  my  word,  my 
sign.  Praise  be  unto  him !" 

"Even  so,"  said  Jeppa. 

"Yet  am  I  ungrateful,  and  wish  that  I  might  have 
first  seen  the  light  in  the  New  Country." 

"Blaspheme  not — lest  thou  bringest  the  wrath  of 
Allah  upon  thy  head!" 

"Didst  thou  hear  aught?  Harken!"  Aletra  whis- 
pered. 

"It  is  but  the  stirring  of  Zulaykha's  child." 

Then,  fearing  that  the  mother  would  rise  to  comfort 
her  babe,  and  be  wounded  to  find  them  in  secret  speech, 
they  made  their  way  back,  past  Zulaykha  and  into  their 
softly  curtained  rooms,  with  careful  footfalls  and  a 
silent  embrace  at  parting. 


CKAPTEK  Y 

IN  THE  PASSING  SOUL  OF  SUMMER 

THE  soul  of  the  summer  was  passing  in  the  harem 
of  Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen.  Flowers  that  had 
bloomed  for  months  were  dying  from  an  overdose  of 
life,  like  broken  beauties  that  have  lived  too  much. 
Even  the  colors  of  such  as  still  blossomed  were  faded 
and  faint. 

In  August  there  came  a  strange  sickness.  Some  said 
the  caravans  brought  it  from  beyond  the  desert;  others 
said  it  was  the  hand  of  the  Prophet  against  the  unfaith- 
ful— and  even  the  faithful  who  consorted  with  the 
infidel  Christians.  But  such  poison  did  it  spread  upon 
the  air  that  where  one  died  of  the  sickness  ten  were 
stricken,  and  almost  none  rose  up  to  health  again. 

In  September  the  women  stopped  visiting  in  the 
harems.  When  October  came  the  baths  were  deserted. 
If  it  became  known  that  one  was  sick,  whether  in  the 
most  costly  seraglio  or  the  poorest  hut,  the  people  fled; 
and  so  great  was  the  fear  of  the  plague  that  if  any  of  the 
household  appeared  those  who  saw  her  cried :  "Hence, 
hence !  Why  wouldst  thou  defile  us  ?" — or,  in  the  case 
of  a  relative,  "Why  wouldst  thou  encompass  the  de- 
struction of  our  children?" 

When  the  kinsmen  of  the  stricken  besought,  "Give 
us  food  or  we  perish,"  the  more  compassionate  would 

37 


38  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

leave  food  at  a  certain  place — but  refused  coin  lest  they 
might  become  affected. 

Often  a  slight  illness  was  taken  for  the  plague,  be- 
cause such  as  had  it  would  ever  call  it  by  some  other 
name.  Everywhere  there  was  hiding  and  deception. 
Sometimes  even  death  was  concealed — that  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family  might  have  one  day  more  to  go  forth 
to  the  bazaars  and  buy  food. 

The  sickness  spread,  and  nothing  was  done  to  prevent 
it.  The  government  took  no  steps,  or  very  weak  ones, 
and  the  merchants  feared  lest  their  holdings  should  be 
condemned  if  the  truth  became  known.  So  there  were 
great  numbers  of  the  stricken  in  hiding.  Often  children 
would  go  to  the  schools  in  the  mosques  fresh  from  the 
embrace  of  plague  victims  and  remain.  Again,  others 
were  driven  away  because  a  brother  had  perhaps  been 
moaning  with  the  toothache  the  night  before. 

In  the  harem  of  Attar  all  was  quiet.  The  women 
stayed  at  home  for  the  most  part  But  in  October 
Hamed  fell  ill  unto  death.  Jeppa  did  not  summon  a 
physician,  but  brewed  medicine  of  foreign  powders 
that  the  master  had  brought  with  him  from  his  travels 
two  years  before,  and  which  was  said  to  possess  magic 
for  deadly  fevers. 

Zulaykha  had  fled  with  her  child  at  the  first  fear  of 
danger.  As  none  would  take  her  in  she  returned  to  the 
harem.  But  she  ran  with  her  babe  and  screamed  when- 
ever she  caught  sight  of  Jeppa.  Aletra  wanted  to  help 
nurse  the  sick  boy,  but  the  mother  would  not  let  her. 

"Keep  thy  strength,"  she  said,  "for  Zulaykha  may 
need  thee." 

So  through  the  days  and  the  nights  that  followed 
Jeppa  nursed  her  first-born  alone,  with  a  mother's 


IN  THE  PASSING  SOUL  OF  SUMMEE        39 

endurance,  strengthened  his  weak  frame  with  a  mother's 
prayers,  fed  his  fainting  soul  with  a  mother's  love. 
She  said  the  beautiful  prayers  of  the  Koran  unceas- 
ingly, while  she  cooled  his  fevered  body  and  led  his 
delirious  ravings  into  the  mellow  chant  of  the  muezzin. 

On  the  night  of  the  third  day  Allah  hearkened  to  her 
prayer  and  a  great  peace  fell  upon  her.  And  she  slept 
beside  the  low  couch  of  her  son.  When  she  awoke 
it  was  day,  but  before  turning  toward  the  boy  she 
bowed  herself  in  prayer,  saying:  "In  the  joy  of  my 
heart  I  thank  thee,  O  Allah,  who  art  most  great,  most 
compassionate,  that  thou  hast  saved  my  first-born  unto 
me,  that  thou  hast  given  him  healing  sleep." 

And  when  she  turned  it  was  even  as  she  had  said. 
The  boy  slept,  and  his  brow  was  damp  and  cool  and 
unclouded.  From  that  day  he  mended,  and  there  was 
great  rejoicing,  not  only  in  the  harem,  but  among  all 
the  people — for  Hamed  was  the  only  one  that  had 
recovered  of  the  many  stricken. 

And  Jeppa  told  them  .all  of  what  she  had  done  with 
the  powder — but  she  gave  the  praise  to  Allah.  The 
people  were  divided  in  their  faith.  There  were  those 
who  said,  "It  was  the  hand  of  Allah  that  mixed  the 
potion.  The  works  of  Allah  are  mighty  and  incom- 
prehensible. ISTo  man  may  understand  them." 

Again  there  were  those  who  said:  "She  hath  offered 
herself  to  Allah  in  place  of  the  boy,  and  he  hath  had 
compassion  upon  her." 

But  miracle  or  not,  if  any  fell  ill  they  sent  for  a  sup 
of  the  blessed  draft,  as  they  called  the  mixture  she  had 
given  the  child. 

Very  often  Jeppa  went  herself  to  the  sick.  Zulaykha 
would  scream  with  rage  on  her  return,  forbidding  her 


40  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

to  even  look  at  her  little  Hafiz  lest  he  be  contaminated. 
But  Jeppa  continued  going,  and  many  of  the  sick 
recovered.  Whether  they  had  the  plague  or  not  was 
to  be  questioned,  but  the  effect  upon  the  people  was 
the  same  as  if  they  had. 

Aletra  asked  her  one  night:  "Dost  thou  not  think 
that  many  are  sick  with  fear?" 

"It  may  well  be,"  admitted  Jeppa. 

"The  gentleness  of  thy  face  healeth  them — thy  quiet 
faith." 

"I  know  not,  O  my  Eyes;  but  when  the  fear  left  me 
the  fever  left  Hamed." 

"Would  that  I  had  such  power!"  sighed  Aletra. 

"When  thou  art  a  mother  Allah  will  give  it  unto 
thee." 

"And  doth  being  a  mother  make  up  all  other  loss?" 

"All  other.  It  is  what  Allah  hath  made  us  for — that 
we  might  know  the  fullness  of  joy." 

"But  the  love  of  man " 

"The  love  of  man  is  but  a  step  that  leadeth  to  the 
paradise  of  mother-bliss." 

"I  do  not  understand." 

"Nay,  but  some  happy  day  thou  wilt.  Then  will 
the  smile  of  the  master  be  less  to  thee  than  the  cry  of 
thy  child." 

Just  then  little  Zema  came  into  the  harem.  Her 
face  was  flushed,  and  she  moved  heavily  toward  her 
mother. 

"I  thirst,"  she  said. 

Jeppa  gave  her  water,  and  she  asked  for  more.  And 
the  mother-heart  grew  fearful  as  she  nestled  her  close 
against  her  breast. 

"Give  her  unto  me,"  said  'Aletra. 


IN  THE  PASSING  SOUL  OF  SUMMEB        41 

"Nay!  Nay!"  cried  the  child.  "None  but  thou, 
mama — none  but  thou !"  And  she  clung  to  Jeppa. 

As  they  spoke  a  man  leading  a  camel  stopped  before 
the  outer  wall.  He  was  a  trusted  Soudanese  servant 
of  the  Sultan,  and  brought  a  command  that  Jeppa  come 
at  once  to  the  seraglio,  bringing  with  her  "the  holy 
draft." 

"The  Ranee  (the  favorite)  of  the  Commander  of 
the  Faithful  is  stricken  and  hath  heard  of  the  magic 
of  the  potion,"  he  said.  "I  bring  a  camel,  for  we  go 
not  by  the  road  lest  the  evil  of  the  plague  be  in  the 
dust.  Bid  her  come  at  once  and  bring  with  her  the 
holy  draft." 

When  Zulaykha  brought  the  message  Jeppa's  face 
grew  white.  Zulaykha  knew  not  that  little  Zema  was 
ill,  as  she  often  nestled  in  her  mother's  arms.  But 
Aletra  knew  what  was  passing  in  Jeppa's  heart  and 
answered  for  her : 

"Bid  him  refresh  himself,  Zulaykha,  that  Jeppa  may 
have  fair  time  to  make  ready.  Give  him  dates  and 
honey-cakes  and  milk,  that  he  grow  not  impatient." 

"And  why  should  I  do  this?"  retorted  Zulaykha. 
"TJiou  canst  do  it,  an  thou  wilt." 

"Nay,  why  wilt  thou  not?"  from  Aletra. 

"I  have  the  master's  child  to  think  of." 

"But,"  pleaded  Aletra,  "I  cannot — for  I  go  to  help 
Jeppa  make  ready  and  to  nurse  little  Zema,  who  is 
stricken  of  a  fever." 

"Stricken  sayest  thou !"  screamed  Zulaykha ;  "strick- 
en! Then  should  she  fare  forth  with  her  mother." 

"Peace,  Zulaykha!"  spoke  Jeppa  over  the  restless 
form  of  the  child.  "Go  feed  the  messenger  and  give 
him  drink  and  beguile  him  for  a  time  while  I  pray." 


42  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

The  voice  of  the  muezzin  chanting  in  a  monotonous 
refrain  broke  in  on  the  discussion : 

"Allah  hu  Ale  Bar!    Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!" 

This  over,  Zulaykha  turned  and  fled  into  the  outer 
court. 

"Thou  canst  not  go,  O  Jeppa!"  said  Aletra  when 
they  were  alone. 

"How  disobey?" 

"He  hath  never  seen  thy  face.  The  ladies  of  the 
harem  also  have  never  seen  thy  face." 

"And  what  then?" 

"I  will  go  in  thy  place." 

"Thou?" 

"Yea.  Thou  shalt  give  me  of  thy  precious  draft, 
and  I,  too,  shall  pray  as  thou  hast  prayed." 

"It  is  not  within  the  possible." 

"Yea,  it  is.  My  speech  shall  be  calm  and  slow  and 
soft — even  as  thine;  and  I  will  mock  thy  gentle  nature 
till  thou  shalt  not  know  me." 

"I  thank  thee,"  began  Jeppa,  shaking  her  head. 

"I  will  pray,"  continued  the  girl,  not  heeding  Jeppa's 
interruption,  "I  will  pray — so  may  I  purge  away  my 
sins  as  well." 

"The  master — I  could  never  lift  mine  eyes  to  his 
again  if  aught  befell  thee,"  she  objected. 

"Danger  is  here  also,"  Aletra  said,  "and  protection 
is  for  the  faithful  wherever  Allah  is." 

"But  Zulaykha?" 

"Will  never  venture  near  thee.  Fear  will  keep  her 
far  distant." 

Jeppa  took  counsel  with  herself  and  was  silent. 

"No,  I  cannot  be  unfaithful  to  the  care  the  master 
hath  given  me  of  thee,"  she  answered  at  last — the  cold 


IH  THE  PASSING  SOUL  OF  SUMMER        43 

drops  standing  upon  her  brow  like  dew  upon  a  lily. 
"Take  thou  my  child,"  she  continued  bravely,  "and 
do  thy  woman's  part.  So  shall  she  yet  smile  upon  us." 

"O  Jeppa,  dost  thou  so  trust  me?" 

"Yea,  for  the  mother  in  thee  but  sleepeth.  It  will 
wake  to  meet  my  Zema's  need.  I  fear  not." 

With  this  she  tried  to  loosen  the  child's  feverish  hold 
upon  her  shoulder,  but  she  clung  the  tighter,  entreating 
with  blazing  eyes:  "Mama,  mama!" 

"Go  thou,  Zema,  to  Aletra,"  said  Jeppa  coaxingly. 

"Nay,  I  want  but  thee,  but  thee,"  she  screamed, 
"mama,  mama !" 

Each  word  tore  the  mother's  heart  grown  weaker 
with  longing  to  surrender,  as  again  and  yet  again  she 
tried  to  loosen  the  hold  of  the  little  fingers. 

"Thou  wilt  kill  thy  child,  Jeppa.  Hearken  to  the 
wisdom  of  my  words  or  we  shall  all  perish  and  none 
be  here  to  give  the  master  welcome." 

Jeppa  struggled  a  moment  with  her  soul;  then  said 
faintly : 

"So  be  it;  but  lift  not  thy  veil  even  while  thou  stay- 
est  in  the  harem,  for  thou  art  beautiful  and  the  eunuch 
hath  eyes." 

"Had  I  but  some  disfiguring  stain!"  exclaimed 
Aletra. 

"What  meanest  thou  ?" 

"I  should  make  my  face  so  unholy  to  look  upon  that 
any  man  who  beheld  it  would  fly  from  me." 

"But  thou  hast  not  time.  Hasten  and  let  me  clothe 
thee  and  veil  thee,  for  I  hear  him  walking  in  his 
impatience.  Zulaykha  hath  not  done  that  which  we 
bade  her." 

With  haste  and  trembling  the  two  women  made  their 


44  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

way  to  Jeppa' s  part  of  the  harem.  Little  Zema,  still 
clasped  in  the  arms  of  her  mother,  lay  like  a  wilted 
flower  after  the  storm  of  her  emotion. 

Jeppa  put  the  child  upon  her  own  bed  and  flitted 
here  and  there  with  great  rapidity,  giving  advice  and 
cautioning  the  other  of  many  things.  She  filled  a  small 
glass  with  the  healing  draft,  giving  directions  as  she 
shook  the  flask  and  looked  to  see  if  the  powder  was 
melted.  But  always  she  ended  with  the  words :  "Allah 
alone  hath  wrought  the  healing.  Most  great  and  com- 
passionate is  Allah!"  And  again:  "Give  the  draft 
that  the  favorite  be  not  displeased  with  thee;  but  pray 
that  thy  fears  and  her  fears  may  be  at  rest  and  all 
will  be  well." 

Before  the  hour  was  out  Aletra  stood  beside  the 
camel.  Zulaykha  had  vanished  in  dread.  Hamed  had 
been  sent  away  with  a  kinsman's  caravan  to  the  far 
distant  Village  of  the  Weavers,  where  dwelt  his  father's 
people.  Zittarra  had  been  sent  to  another  kinsman. 
So  there  was  none  to  know  that  it  was  not  Jeppa  that 
fared  forth. 


CHAPTER  VI 


t» 


"IP   THE  RANEE  DIE,  O  ALLAH  1 

THE  tossing  and  rocking  of  the  camel  gave  Aletra 
scant  time  to  think;  but  of  one  thing  she  tried  to 
assure  herself:  the  new  character  which  she  was  at- 
tempting to  assume.  For  it  was  possible  that  Jeppa' s 
wonderful  serenity  was  known  at  the  seraglio. 

"Thou  art  Jeppa.  Thy  speech  must  be  soft  and 
slow,  and  thy  words  prayerful,"  she  told  herself  in 
the  pauses  of  the  fearful  rocking.  "Thou  art  Jeppa." 

They  traveled  slowly,  on  account  of  the  stones  that 
had  fallen  in  many  places.  But  the  great  Sudanese 
who  had  been  sent  for  her  seemed  to  know  every  foot 
of  the  way,  and  guided  the  camel  with  much  care. 

As  they  entered  the  seraglio  there  was  much  whisper- 
ing and  running  to  and  fro  of  slaves.  Then  Babek,  the 
tremendous  eunuch  in  charge  of  the  harem,  came  and 
conducted  her  into  the  presence  of  the  Sultan. 

The  Commander  of  the  Faithful  reclined  upon  a  low 
divan  of  carved  olive-wood,  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl 
and  jewels,  and  spread  with  rugs  of  Oriental  mag- 
nificence. Fear  was  in  his  face  as  he  clasped  and 
unclasped  his  hands  nervously. 

"Hast  thou  a  draft  to  heal  the  plague?  Speak  thou 
the  truth!"  he  commanded. 

"That  say  I  not,"  Aletra  made  answer  slowly,  tak- 

45 


46  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

ing  the  manner  of  Jeppa  as  closely  as  she  could.  "Who 
am  I  to  know  the  will  of  Allah  ?" 

"Is  it  Allah  or  the  draft  that  healeth  ?"  he  asked 
impatiently. 

"Without  Allah  would  be  no  draft — no  Sultan — no 
ranee — no  Jeppa." 

"Thy  speech  hath  reverence,  as  becometh  a  good 
woman,"  he  commended ;  then  added :  "Lift  thy  veil." 

"My  master  hath  ever  taught  me  to  obey  the  voice  of 
the  rulers  and  those  in  high  places,  O  mighty  Sultan; 
but,  as  thou  desireth  that  I  heal  the  princess,  let  no 
man  look  upon  my  face  lest  my  power  be  gone — not 
even  the  eunuch  that  watcheth  over  the  harem." 

"Why  not  he?    He  is  not  a  man." 

"Nay,  but  perchance  he  hath  been,  in  some  life  long 
since  burned  to  ashes." 

"Art  thou,  then,  so  beautiful  as  to  stir  the  memory 
of  the  dead  ?" 

"I — beautiful!"  she  cried  in  the  sad  voice  of  Jeppa. 
"Mock  me  not,  O  Sultan,  lest  I  fail;  but  fetch  me 
straightway  unto  the  lady,  that  I  may  compose  myself 
for  her  sake." 

"So  shall  it  be,"  he  answered,  clapping  his  hands 
for  the  slaves,  who  stood  apart.  "And  if  she  be  re- 
stored to  me,  thou  shall  not  have  cause  to  say  Omar  hath 
stinted  in  his  guerdon.  Seest  thou  this  jewel?"  he 
continued,  showing  a  great  sapphire  set  in  a  ring  of 
dull  Egyptian  gold. 

"This  will  I  give  thee — and  a  necklace,  with  pearls 
as  large  as  the  eggs  of  birds." 

"Nay,  O  Commander  of  the  Faithful !"  began  Aletra, 
but  he  stopped  her,  saying: 


"IF  THE  EANEE  DIE,  0  ALLAH!"  47 

"Thou  shalt  be  rich;  and  any  honor  within  my  gift 
shall  be  thine  for  the  asking." 

"Allah  is  merciful,  O  Most  Gracious  Master,"  she 
answered  speaking  slowly  and  evenly,  as  Jeppa  might, 
choosing  her  words  with  wisdom.  "Yet  wait  till  I  have 
saved  the  princess;  and  while  thou  art  waiting,  hold 
no  unholy  thought — wrong  no  man ;  think  of  no  woman ; 
and  walk  with  Allah  alone. 

"So  shall  it  be  the  easier  for  me;  for  the  master  and 
the  wife  are  one  flesh,  and  the  honor  of  one  is  the  praise 
of  the  other.  So  that  if  Allah  look  with  favor  upon 
thee,  even  so  shall  the  princess  find  favor  in  his  sight." 

Having  spoken,  she  turned  to  the  waiting  slaves,  and 
said: 

"Lead  me  to  the  princess." 

Though  the  Sultan  had  given  no  word  of  dom- 
mand,  they  obeyed  her  as  one  having  power.  And,  bow- 
ing low,  she  left  his  presence.  But  when  once  away, 
she  shook  as  with  the  palsy  from  fear,  and  gave  thanks 
to  Jeppa  for  bidding  her  keep  her  veil  drawn  even  when 
with  the  women. 

"If  the  ranee  die,  O  Allah,  what  will  befall  me  ?"  she 
asked  herself,  and  grew  cold  with  fear. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PBINCESS  AND  THE  POTION 

THE  princess  lay  upon  a  low  couch.  About  her  were 
wrappings  of  embroidered  silk.  The  couch  was 
golden,  and  there  were  many  cushions  and  soft  rugs. 
The  veil  about  her  shoulders  and  her  garments  shone 
like  cobwebs  in  the  sunshine;  yet,  though  bright  in 
color — gold,  saffron,  amber — they  shaded  one  into  the 
other.  The  air  was  heavy  with  many  spices,  and  in- 
cense twigs  burned  on  a  copper  brazier,  making  the  air 
dense  with  aromatic  mist. 

The  princess — low-browed  and  tinted  like  the  olive 
when  it  is  ripe  from  the  kiss  of  the  sun — was  beautiful 
beyond  any  woman  Aletra  had  ever  beheld.  Her  women 
were  grouped  about  her  in  fear  and  despair;  but  as 
Aletra  entered,  their  cry  of  joy!  "Lu-lw-lvsw-u!" 
echoed  through  the  harem.  They  cried  the  Zagharee! 
for  did  they  not  consider  her  as  sent  from  Allah  to  save 
them  as  well  as  the  ranee  ? 

Aletra,  though,  who  had  seen  both  Hamed  and  little 
Zema  when  they  first  fell  ill,  knew,  as  soon  as  her  eyes 
rested  upon  the  favorite,  that  she  was  but  sore  afraid, 
and  not  stricken  of  the  plague. 

"O  Allah,  be  merciful  and  send  me  the  blessed  draft 
before  it  is  too  late,"  the  princess  was  moaning  as  she 
entered.  Then,  her  eyes  falling  upon  Aletra,  she  well 

48 


49 

nigh  strangled  in  her  frenzy  as  she  demanded:  "Hast 
thou  the  draft  ?  Haste,  haste !  Give  it  unto  me  that 
I  may  drink,  and  woe  betide  thee  if  it  easeth  me  not !" 

But  Aletra,  knowing  that  she  was  nigh  unto  mad- 
ness, was  loath  to  give  the  small  flagon  which  she  had 
brought  lest  the  ranee  quaff  it  at  a  draft  and  grow  rest- 
less if  her  fears  did  not  vanish  speedily.  So  she  an- 
swered, with  the  even  sweetness  of  Jeppa's  tone  that 
she  tried  ever  to  remember : 

"Art  thou  in  haste  to  enter  paradise,  O  Princess?" 

"JSTay,  so  waste  not  thy  time  with  words — but  give 
me  the  potion,"  answered  the  ranee  angrily. 

"Thou  shalt  take  it,  but  as  I  give  it  thee,"  said 
Aletra. 

The  favorite  looked  upon  her  in  silent  rage.  She 
paid  no  heed,  but  continued  speaking  evenly,  as  might 
Jeppa : 

"It  is  so  potent  that  a  sup  too  much,  and  thou  wert 
beyond  my  help." 

At  the  command,  in  the  quiet,  fearless  voice,  the 
princess  would  have  torn  the  veil  from  Aletra's  face,  or 
otherwise  humiliated  her;  but  she  did  not,  because  of 
her  fear.  So,  rolling  her  great  eyes,  she  screamed: 

"Then,  why  dost  thou  not  give  it  me  ?  Why  delayest 
thou  ?  I  scarcely  breathe,  and  the  measure  of  my  heart 
is  growing  weak !" 

Aletra  did  not  answer,  but  bade  the  slaves  bring  her 
cups  and  vessels.  With  care,  she  poured  a  few  drops  of 
the  liquor  into  a  cup,  placed  it  in  another  vessel,  and 
surrounded  it  with  water.  Then  she  waited  in  silence 
to  gain  time  and  cast  the  spell  of  the  unknown  upon 
the  waiting  women. 

She  was  still  trembling  with  fear,  when  the  call  to 


50  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

evening  prayer  fell  upon  the  huddled  group,  "Allah  hu 
Ale  Bar!  Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!" 

He  who  called  the  prayer  was  near  at  hand.  In- 
stantly, as  if  possessed  of  a  single  body,  the  women 
prostrated  themselves.  Aletra  turned  to  do  the  same, 
when  the  Princess  rose  and  clutched  her  garments, 
crying: 

"Thou  shall  not  pray  to  Allah  till  thou  hast  given 
me  the  draft.  Canst  thou  not  see  that  I  perish  ?" 

Then  Aletra  raised  her  hand  and  said  in  soft  reproof : 

"Hearken !  Dost  thou  not  hear,  0  Ranee,  that  there 
is  none  greater  than  Allah  ?" 

And  though  she  did  not  prostrate  herself,  as  the 
angry  princess  still  stood  beside  her,  she  chanted  the 
call  in  even  accents  with  the  muezzin. 

After  the  call  had  ceased  she  chanted  slowly  from 
the  Koran,  for  protection  from  evil  and  darkness  and 
death,  ending  with: 

"In  the  name  of  the  Prophet,  by  the  sun  and  its 
rising  greatness,  by  the  moon  when  it  followeth  him,  by 
the  day  when  it  showeth  its  splendor,  by  the  night  when 
it  covereth  him  with  darkness,  by  the  heaven  and  Him 
who  built  it,  by  the  earth  and  Him  who  spread  it  forth, 
by  the  sea  and  Him  who  formed  it;  spread  thou  thy 
healing  over  the  house  of  him  who  leadeth  the  Faith- 
ful, and  speak  the  word  of  healing  and  of  peace !" 

Under  the  spell  of  her  voice  the  princess  grew  calm. 
When  she  had  finished,  Aletra  gave  the  potion,  saying : 

"Drink,  O  Princess,  wfell  beloved  one — and  may 
Allah  make  thee  whole,  that  thou  mayst  delight  the 
heart  of  the  Master." 

The  favorite  took  it  like  a  child,  despite  its  bitter- 
ness. Having  swallowed  the  medicine  she  sank  back 
among  her  cushions  and  closed  her  eyes. 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  POTION          51 

A  beautiful  slave  girl  crept  timidly  toward  the  couch, 
composed  the  amber  wrappings,  and  covered  her  mis- 
tress's feet  with  a  silken  rug. 

There  was  silence,  as  if  they  waited  for  the  miracle. 
Drawn  faces  were  turned  toward  Aletra  as  if  toward 
a  prophetess  who  possessed  the  power  of  magic.  For 
had  she  not  covered  Fatma,  the  princess,  with  confu- 
sion and  made  her  as  a  little  child?  Was  she  not  the 
visible  redeemer  from  the  plague,  should  they  be 
stricken  ?  Then,  too,  she  had  not  lifted  her  veil.  Mys- 
tery enveloped  her  as  darkness  does  the  night.  So 
serene  and  high  she  seemed  to  them  that  they  were 
ready  to  cast  themselves  at  her  feet  and  seek  protection 
from  the  scourge,  and  but  for  the  presence  of  the  ranee 
they  would  have  done  so. 

Aletra,  behind  her  veil,  was  praying  Allah  to  take 
her  safely  away  from  the  seraglio,  and  thinking  how 
she  could  save  the  precious  liquor,  for  Jeppa  would 
sorely  need  it  if  little  Zema  were  ill  long.  So  Aletra 
thought  and  prayed  in  the  heavy  silence. 

The  princess  appeared  to  sleep;  the  women  scarce 
drew  their  breaths.  She  had  turned  so  that  her  back 
was  toward  the  women,  and  lay  facing  Aletra.  Her 
peaceful  breathing  led  them  to  believe  that  she  slept. 

But  when  Aletra  turned  her  head  to  arrange  her  veil, 
she  found  the  great  dark  eyes  full  upon  her,  and  a 
strange  new  sense  of  danger,  as  of  being  in  the  power 
of  some  beast  of  the  wilds,  made  her  knees  to  totter 
beneath  her.  All  control  seemed  to  be  slipping  away, 
and  a  weakness  caused  her  to  tremble. 

"Allah,  Allah,  Allah !"  she  cried  in  the  stillness  of 
her  heart,  "protect  thou  me  from  the  eyes  of  those  that 
hate!" 

She  uttered  no  word  of  the  prayer,  but  stood  like  a 


52  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

young  prophetess,  with  arms  upraised  till  the  calm  of 
heaven  fell  upon  her.  And  when  the  hour  had  passed 
thus  in  silence,  she  said  softly  to  the  young  slave  girl : 

"Bring  unto  me  the  cup.  The  time  cometh  for  an- 
other potion." 

"So  soon,  0  Jeppa?"  sighed  the  princess,  as  if  just 
awakened. 

"Every  hour,"  Aletra  made  answer. 

"Throughout  the  night  ?"  asked  the  favorite. 

"Throughout  the  night,"  she  was  answered. 

"Wilt  thou  tarry,  or  leave  the  draft  with  my 
women  ?" 

"I  will  tarry." 

"How  long?" 

"Till  thou  art  whole." 

"And  when  shall  that  be?" 

"At  midday  prayer  on  the  morrow." 

"How  knowest  thou  that?  Hast  thou  not  said  none 
is  greater  than  Allah  ?" 

"Yea;  and  for  that  he  is  Allah,  thy  life  shall  be 
spared." 

"And  my  women  ?" 

"They  are  not  stricken." 

"Nay,  not  now ;  yet  they  be  within  the  hour." 

At  this  there  was  a  rising,  horrified  murmur  from 
the  crouching  group. 

"They  may  well  be,  0  prophetess;  for  is  not  the 
plague  in  the  harem?  By  what  magic  should  they 
escape  when  even  I  lie  stricken  ?" 

"None  but  the  Most  Great  may  say  who  shall  be 
stricken  and  who  go  free,  O  princess!" 

"Yet  would  it  be  well  to  have  thee  close,"  said  Fatma. 

Aletra  made  no  answer,  but  consumed  much  time  in 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  POTION          53 

preparing  the  medicine.  Her  measured  movements 
angered  the  favorite. 

"Canst  thou  not  hasten  the  brewing,  0  messenger 
of  the  prophet?  See,  I  faint  again.  Abla!  Abla! 
Haste !"  she  screamed  to  the  beautiful  slave  girl.  "Feel 
thou  my  heart.  It  pulseth,  it  pulseth !  Oh,  I  fear — I 
fear  I  shall  perish!" 

At  this  there  was  great  confusion,  crying,  and  moan- 
ing among  the  women.  Four  slaves  supported  the  rav- 
ing princess,  while  Aletra  held  the  potion  to  her  lips. 
This  time  the  features  were  distorted  because  of  the 
bitterness  of  the  cup. 

"Thou  hast  doubled  the  dose,"  she  cried  as  she  drew 
her  brows  together. 

"Nay,  it  is  the  same,"  assured  Aletra. 

The  princess  again  appeared  to  sleep,  and  again  ob- 
served Aletra  through  lowered  lids.  All  through  the 
night,  at  every  watch,  Aletra  gave  her  a  few  drops  of 
the  draft. 

At  the  sunrise  call  to  prayer  the  stricken  one  was  so 
exhausted  that  she  slept,  and  Aletra  gave  thanks  in  her 
heart,  for  this  was  what  she  had  prayed  for — an  hour, 
even  a  few  blessed  moments,  when  she  could  be  free 
from  the  gaze  of  those  half-closed  eyes  and  the  fear 
that  oppressed  her. 

The  call  of  the  muezzin  ceased,  and  as  the  women 
rose  softly  she  turned  to  them,  and  said : 

"If  thy  mistress  stir  so  much  as  an  eyelid  call  ye  me." 

And  when  they  had  assured  her  with  awe  in  their 
glances,  she  folded  herself  in  a  rug  and  lay  down  to  rest. 

The  vigil  of  the  night  had  made  her  eyes  heavy,  and 
before  the  women  had  rolled  the  ends  of  the  rug  about 
her  feet  she  slept.  Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  neither 


54  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

awoke.  It  was  at  the  close  of  the  midday  prayer  that 
Abla,  the  slave  girl,  who  alone  had  kept  awake,  tried 
to  arouse  Aletra. 

"Who  art  thou  ?"  she  asked,  startled  from  a  familiar 
dream  of  Jeppa  and  Zulaykha  by  the  girl's  touch,  at 
the  same  time  throwing  off  her  veil.  Then  suddenly 
she  remembered  and,  quickly  covering  her  face,  asked: 

"How  fareth  it  with  the  princess?" 

"She  still  sleepeth,"  answered  the  girl.  "But  Ba- 
bek,  the  chief  eunuch,  craveth  speech  with  thee." 

"What  is  thy  name,  girl?"  whispered  Aletra. 

"Abla,  O  most  beautiful  one!"  softly  breathed  the 
girl. 

"Abla,  an  thou  wouldst  have  thy  freedom,  say  not 
to  any  that  I  am  fair.  Say  that  my  face  hath  a  griev- 
ous distemper." 

"Why  should  I  so  belie  thee,  O  prophetess  ?" 

"Nay,  thou  canst  say  that  my  heart  is  good.  A  good 
heart  hath  never  yet  tempted  the  flesh." 

Instantly  the  girl  understood  through  that  unwritten 
knowledge  that  women  have  of  one  another. 

"Thou  wouldst  away — thou  f earest  the  Sultan  ?"  she 
whispered  as  Aletra  secured  her  veil.  "Then  let  not 
Babek  see  thy  face,  but  show  thyself  unto  the  princess. 
So  may  she  be  healed  the  sooner  that  thou  mayst  away. 
Thinkest  thou,  O  lady,  that  she  hath  been  stricken?" 
the  girl  added  very  low. 

"Nay — stricken  of  fear  alone." 

"I  care  not  for  my  freedom,  O  Jeppa — but  to  live 
in  the  light  of  thy  heavenly  countenance " 

Just  then  the  princess  moved,  and  Abla  flew  to  her 
side.  Aletra  went  to  the  door,  where  Babek  awaited 
her. 

"The  most  gracious  master  hath  commanded  me  to 


THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  POTION  55 

fetch  thee  to  him  that  he  may  have  word  concerning 
the  princess." 

As  he  spoke  he  bent  from  his  great  height,  as  if 
speaking  to  a  child,  and  his  eyes  sought  to  penetrate 
the  shelter  of  her  veil. 

"Say  unto  him,"  Aletra  made  answer,  "that  the 
malady  mendeth  slowly,  but  that  I  dare  not  leave  her 
for  the  space  of  a  moment." 

Babek  waited,  as  if  loath  to  carry  her  words;  then 
turning,  went  his  way. 

Aletra  thought  to  get  away  by  evening  prayer;  but 
the  princess  was  perverse,  begged  her  to  lift  her  veil, 
threatened,  then  coaxed  her.  Failing  in  every  way  to 
penetrate  the  protecting  hoik — which  hid  not  only  the 
face,  but  the  entire  figure  of  the  mysterious  prophetess 
— she  turned  her  wrath  upon  Abla,  and  had  her  ban- 
ished from  her  presence  and  beaten  by  order  of  Babek, 
to  whom  she  sent  complaints. 

It  was  only  at  midnight,  after  sore  trials  of  her 
patience,  weary  and  sick  with  fright,  that  Aletra  left 
the  princess  for  a  few  hours  to  go  to  the  room  set  apart 
for  her,  that  she  might  close  her  eyes  in  sleep.  On  the 
way  she  asked  the  slave,  who  led  her : 

"Canst  thou  send  the  girl,  Abla,  to  me  ?" 

And  the  slave  answered,  prostrating  herself: 

"Yea,  O  prophetess!  I  will  rouse  her  straightway 
and  send  her  unto  thee.  Hast  thou  any  further 
command  ?" 

"None.  Rise  and  carry  thy  message  swiftly  unto 
Abla." 

"I  go,"  said  the  woman,  rising;  and  a  moment  later 
she  disappeared  as  silently  as  glides  the  cobra  in  the 
shadows  of  the  jungle, 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ALETRA  AND  THE  SLAVE  GIEL 

ALETEA  had  never  seen  a  place  of  so  much  mag- 
nificence as  the  room  that  had  been  set  apart  for 
her.     It  was  even  richer  than  that  occupied  by  the 
princess. 

The  door,  which  she  closed  hastily  when  the  slave 
disappeared,  was  of  cunningly  carved  olive-wood.  The 
golden  bed  was  enormous,  and  covered  with  beauti- 
fully wrought  designs  of  shining  pearl,  designs  of  lotus 
blossoms  and  half-human  flowers  of  paradise  that  never 
bloomed  on  earth — the  imaginings  of  some  artist 
enamored  of  the  fantastic  mysteries  of  the  blest  abode, 
but  not  quite  willing  to  abandon  the  subtle  inspiration 
of  human  womanhood. 

This  Tunisian  bed  was  piled  with  silken  fabrics  of 
different  tints,  from  the  faintest  blush  of  dawn  to  the 
deepest  rose  and  saffron,  all  heavy  with  embroidery. 
The  rugs  were  woven  of  pure  silk,  and  were  as  thick 
from  one  side  to  the  other  as  a  man's  hand;  and  the 
perfume  that  had  been  spilled  upon  them  was  made  of 
the  souls  of  flowers,  and  would  last  a  century. 

The  walls  were  covered  with  silks,  embroidered  in 
fanciful  arabesques,  so  wonderful  in  their  harmony 
that  the  whole  seemed  like  a  leaf  from  the  books  of 
paradise. 

66 


ALETEA  AND  THE  SLAVE  GIRL  57 

Aletra  loved  beauty ;  and  though  spent  with  watching 
and  fright,  while  her  limbs  scarce  sustained  her  and 
her  eyes  ached  from  looking  through  the  veil  so  long, 
she  could  not  smother  a  cry  of  delight  as  she  touched 
the  shimmering  fabrics. 

Throwing  herself  upon  the  great  bed,  in  the  heart 
of  the  silken  billows,  she  began  to  loosen  her  veil,  the 
better  to  drink  in  the  beauty  about  her.  She  sighed : 

"Here  need  I  not  act  the  part  of  Jeppa.  Here  am 
I  Aletra  once  again." 

She  lifted  the  heavy  veil,  but  sprang  up  quickly  and 
covered  her  face  to  admit  Abla,  who  had  called  softly  at 
the  door.  The  girl's  eyes  were  swollen  with  weeping, 
for  Babek  had  been  merciless;  but  the  look  of  idolatry 
filled  them  as  she  crossed  the  threshold. 

"I  am  come,  O  lady,"  she  said. 

"Enter  and  make  fast  the  door,"  Aletra  answered. 

Abla  was  the  daughter  of  a  Berber  who  had  fallen 
in  battle  before  one  of  the  desert  cities.  After  her 
father's  death  she  was  sold  into  slavery,  and  became 
one  of  the  attendants  upon  the  ladies  of  the  harem. 

"I  would  not  close  mine  eyes  till  I  knew  thou  wert 
here  to  guard  the  door,"  Aletra  began  in  her  own  warm, 
caressing  voice,  with  no  trace  of  Jeppa's  calmness. 
With  this  she  again  threw  off  her  veil  and  dark  haik, 
and  raised  her  round,  young  arms  in  their  freedom. 
Abla  gazed  upon  her  in  wordless  astonishment  at  the 
perfection  of  her  beauty. 

"Thou  art  as  lovely  as  the  springtime,"  she  gasped; 
"but  thou  art  wearied  unto  death.  Let  me  unbind  thy 
garments  and  soothe  thee  to  sleep." 

"Mine  eyes  crave  sleep.  But  there  is  something 
here" — putting  her  hand  to  her  brow — "that  will  not 


58  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

let  me  sleep.  I  fear — O  Abla,  I  fear  the  princess!" 
she  said  rapidly.  "Why  doth  she  delay  my  journeying 
forth  ?  I  fear  Babek  also,  and  the  Sultan." 

"It  is  but  that  thy  spirit  is  worn,  O  lady,  and  causeth 
thee  to  tremble  at  naught.  I  will  watch  the  rest  of  the 
night  while  thou  sleepest."  Abla  made  answer  softly, 
at  the  same  time  loosening  the  other's  garments  with 
silken  touch.  "And  who  shall  say,"  she  continued, 
"that  she  may  not  bid  thee  depart  laden  with  jewels?" 

"Thy  words  hold  comfort  and  wisdom,  but  I  would 
I  were  a  bird  that  I  might  fly  through  the  casement 
and  away  to  mine  own." 

So  they  talked  far  into  the  night,  Abla  ever  com- 
forting as  she  poured  perfumed  water  from  a  brazen 
ewer  upon  her  hands,  and  soothed  the  other's  tired 
limbs,  saying  ever  and  again : 

"Thou  art  more  beautiful  than  the  princess.  Yea, 
an  hundredfold,  an  hundredfold !" 

Aletra's  fears  grew  less;  she  slept,  almost.  The 
girl's  voice  was  like  music  as  she  murmured : 

"Allah  give  thee  sleep,  O  lady,  and  make  thee  to 
smile  in  thy  dreams,  while  Abla  watcheth." 

Her  praises  and  prayers  were  so  blended  into  a 
lullaby  that  at  last  sleep  came.  Then,  moving  very 
softly,  the  little  slave  made  a  pallet  beside  the  door  and 
laid  herself  gently  upon  it.  Twice  in  the  hours  that 
followed  she  thought  she  heard  footsteps,  but  bravely 
told  herself  it  was  but  the  spirit  of  darkness  knocking 
at  the  door  of  restless  hearts. 

So  passed  the  second  night  in  the  harem  of  the 
Sultan. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ZULAYKHA  COMES  UPON  A  SECRET 

IT  was  midday  in  the  harem  of  Attar  al  Hassen ;  there 
was  no  sign  of  life  in  the  little  garden  or  the  court  j 
yet  the  evidence  of  inhabitants  gave  to  the  place  a 
subtle  suggestion  that  the  insensate  objects — tabourets, 
rose  jars,  divans,  cushions — all  the  intimate  parapher- 
nalii  of  domestic  life,  were  but  holding  their  breath, 
suspending  their  usefulness  in  an  hour  of  supreme 
tension.  The  personality  of  inanimate  things,  which  is 
sometimes  as  forceful,  as  compelling  or  repelling,  as  if 
possessed  of  sensate  bodies  hovered  about  the  abode. 

It  was  the  fourth  day  since  Aletra's  departure  for 
the  seraglio.  The  psychic  atmosphere  of  the  little 
harem  court  was  one  of  suspense,  fear,  acute  waiting. 
Zulaykha,  who  entered  at  this  hour,  felt  it  subcon- 
sciously but  fully.  Her  face  was  blanched  with  fear, 
and  as  she  stepped  cautiously  she  looked  about,  as  if, 
mayhap,  danger  might  be  lurking  near. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ventured  to  go  to 
Jeppa's  room  since  Zema  was  stricken.  For  she  had 
told  herself  many  times:  "If  Jeppa  come  not  bacl^ 
from  the  seraglio  and  Aletra  sicken  caring  for  Zema, 
I  alone  will  be  left  to  welcome  the  master." 

Though  she  did  not  allow  herself  to  dwell  upon 
this  prospect,  there  were  moments  when  it  almost  grew 

59 


60  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

into  a  hope;  and  these  moments  yielded  satisfaction. 
Again  she  reasoned:  "I  have  the  care  of  the  master's 
child.  Is  it  not  meet  that  I,  who  have  borne  him  and 
still  suckle  him,  should  avoid  all  danger  ?"  So  she  had 
gone  into  the  little  kiosk  and  made  it  tight  against  the 
winds  of  night,  and  lived  there  wholly  for  her  child  and 
herself. 

But  despite  all  her  care  Hafiz  grew  restless,  and 
when  she  felt  his  little  body  unnaturally  cold  or  warm 
against  her  breast,  she  became  frenzied  with  fear. 

"Oh,  that  Jeppa  had  not  gone  to  the  seraglio,"  she 
moaned.  At  last,  tortured  with  anxiety  for  her  child, 
she  ventured  into  the  little  court.  Hearing  no  sound, 
she  crept  closer  to  Aletra's  room.  Added  to  her  fear 
of  the  plague,  was  the  possibility  that  Aletra  might  need 
help  for  Zema  or  herself,  and  that  if  she  refused  and  the 
master  heard  ever  of  it,  he  would  divorce  her  in  his 
anger.  Still  again,  had  she  not  the  preceding  wife's 
hatred  in  her  heart  against  Aletra  ?  All  powerful  rea- 
sons ;  but  above  them,  and  setting  them  quite  aside,  was 
her  mother-instinct.  This,  and  this  alone,  made  it 
possible  for  her  to  quiet  her  trembling  and  take  the  first 
step  into  the  harem.  Having  entered,  she  was  in  an 
agony  of  indecision.  "Oh,  could  I  but  see  where  Aletra 
keepeth  the  draft,"  she  thought.  "I  could  steal  hither 
and  take  it  for  Hafiz." 

As  she  stepped  upon  the  rug  a  cushion  fell  from  a 
divan.  She  was  so  startled  that  her  heart  almost  stopped 
beating.  It  was  the  same  on  which  Aletra  always  sat 
when  Attar  was  at  home.  'Now,  as  it  fell  almost  at  her 
feet,  a  wave  of  anger  crimsoned  her  face  and  she  spurned 
it  with  the  tip  of  her  slipper. 

The  action  had  been  without  thought  or  direction ;  but 
when  she  saw  that  the  cushion  lay  like  a  crushed  thing 


ZULAYKHA  COMES  UPON  A  SECRET        61 

against  the  master's  rug,  seeming  to  have  sought  pro- 
tection in  its  heavy  folds,  she  shuddered  as  at  an  omen. 
And  as  if  the  inanimate  object  had  accused  her,  she 
picked  it  up  and  replaced  it  on  the  divan. 

Her  steps  were  stealthy,  as  if  the  stillness  of  the  place 
were  sleep  from  which  it  might  awaken  at  any  moment 
and  behold  her  with  its  hundred  eyes.  Stealing  so 
quietly  along  the  familiar  place  like  a  silent-footed 
wraith  over  its  former  haunts,  she  reached  the  door  of 
Aletra's  room.  Very  softly  she  opened  it;  first  a  little 
way,  then  further  till  she  saw  that  there  was  no  one 
within. 

Aletra's  veil  lay  over  one  end  of  the  bed;  otherwise 
the  room  was  in  perfect  order;  but  it  had  that  inex- 
plicable character  of  the  unused,  unoccupied  habitation. 
Zulaykha  felt  rather  than  understood  this  quality,  and 
a  fierce,  wild  joy  welled  up  in  her  heart — a  joy  that  she 
did  not  need  to  define. 

Emboldened  by  the  vacant  room,  she  took  her  steps 
with  less  caution,  and  overturned  a  rose-jar.  The  next 
moment  Jeppa  stood  before  her. 

"Jeppa,  thou !"  she  cried. 

"Yea;  but  why  comest  thou  hither,  O  Zulaykha?" 

"Hafiz,  O  Jeppa,  hath  been  restless,  and  I  fear " 

"Yea,"  interrupted  the  other,  "thou  fearest.  That 
is  thy  weakness.  Yet  it  is  thy  strength  as  well,  else 
naught  would  have  brought  thee  hither." 

"An  I  had  thought  thou  wert  here,  I  had  come 
sooner." 

"I  thank  thee,"  returned  Jeppa,  but  without  warmth. 
This  feeling  of  repulsion  toward  Zulaykha's  friendly 
advances  had  always  filled  her  gentle  heart  with  self- 
reproach. 

"When   didst  thou  return?"   asked  Zulaykha,   and 


62 

almost  in  the  same  breath  she  questioned  again :  "And 
where  is  Aletra  ?" 

The  first  wife  came  closer  to  her  and,  looking  into 
her  eyes,  answered : 

"O  Zulaykha,  I  will  tell  thee  all.  Aletra  hath  fared 
forth  in  my  place  that  my  Zema  a  mother's  care  might 
have;  yet " 

Here  the  Egyptian  interrupted  her.  Speaking  of 
Zema  reminded  her  of  Hafiz;  and  without  even  asking 
how  it  fared  with  the  other's  child  she  almost  demanded : 

"Give  me  of  the  draft.  I  cannot  tarry  lest  my  child 
become  fretful  in  my  absence." 

"The  draft '  began  Jeppa,  but  again  the  other 

interrupted : 

"Yea,  the  draft!  Thou  darest  not  refuse  it  to  the 
master's  child.  Is  he  not  the  same  to  him  as  thy 
Hamed?" 

"Thou  art  welcome  to  the  draft,"  said  the  other 
sadly.  "Yet  would  I  tell  thee  that  it  hath  no  virtue, 
for  Zema  mendeth  not  and  my  heart  is  sore  afraid." 

"Thou — art — afraid?"  said  Zulaykha  in  amaze,  for 
her  reliance  had  been  upon  the  draft. 

Jeppa  made  no  answer,  but  fetched  the  draft  and 
divided  it,  and  gave  her  a  small  flagon.  And  Zulaykha 
turned  and  swiftly  left  the  room.  But  even  as  she  sped 
back  to  the  kiosk  with  the  draft  held  close  to  her  breast, 
she  thought  of  the  master's  return,  and  reflected  that 
if  Aletra  still  tarried  in  the  seraglio,  she  would  once 
more  be  the  pride  of  Al  Hassen's  harem. 

But  within  the  hour  Hafiz  was  truly  stricken,  and  she 
forgot  the  master  in  the  master's  child. 


CHAPTEE  X 

PRYING   EYES    IN    THE    NIGHT 

THE  princess  was  even  more  capricious  the  next 
day.  She  was  entirely  healed  of  her  fear  of  the 
plague,  but  sought  to  torment  Aletra  in  a  thousand 
ways  to  draw  from  her  the  secret  of  the  miraculous 
potion.  The  day  after  it  was  the  same;  and  the  next 
day,  and  the  next.  Each  night  found  Aletra  a  little 
less  confident,  and  her  fears  grew.  The  ministrations 
of  Abla  alone  saved  her  from  sinking  utterly.  Day 
after  day  the  favorite  refused  to  let  her  go  forth. 

Abla  slept  much  in  the  day,  as  she  had  been  set  apart 
to  serve  the  prophetess.  But  at  night  she  kept  a  faithful 
watch,  for  there  was  something  more  than  the  spirit 
of  the  night  abroad  in  the  court  of  the  harem  of  Al 
Haroun. 

Another  thing  Abla  noticed — every  day  some  beau- 
tiful object  was  added  to  Aletra's  room.  The  silver 
ewer  was  replaced  by  a  golden  one.  The  bronze  lamp 
disappeared,  and  in  its  place  glowed  a  crystal  zone  with 
intricate  chasing.  Every  day  there  were  flowers,  per- 
fumes, delight — a  kind  of  candy-paste,  with  alluring 
foreign  flavoring — and  many  other  things  to  tempt  or 
please  a  woman. 

"Blast  thou  seen  this?"  asked  Abla  one  night,  hold- 
ing out  a  shimmering  shawl  of  dull  blue  with  embroid- 
eries and  copper. 

63 


64  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Wonderful!"  cried  Aletra,  enraptured.  "A  year's 
patience  hath  not  wrought  such  a  shawl,"  she  continued 
as  she  wound  it  about  her  slim  young  body  in  delight. 

"It  may  well  have  taken  two  years.  Look,  the  stitches 
are  as  fine  as  weaving!"  exclaimed  the  little  maid,  ex- 
amining it  with  admiration. 

"And  what  is  this,"  asked  Aletra,  lifting  a  filmy 
Oriental  dress — silken  blouse  and  trousers — of  faintest 
pink  from  the  divan.  "Who  hath  brought  this  hither  ? 
And  these?"  she  asked  as  she  pointed  to  the  dazzling 
beauty  of  many  silken  garments. 

"I  know  not,  0  lady ;  but  it  must  be  by  order  of  the 
master." 

"The  Sultan  ?"  gasped  Aletra.  "Ah,  he  hath  much 
gratitude  in  his  heart  for  that  I  have  saved  the  prin- 
cess." 

Abla  looked  long  into  the  eyes  of  her  mistress,  then 
answered : 

"Nay,  I  think  Babek  sent  them." 

"And  why?"  questioned  Aletra. 

"Soft  raiment,  and  gold  and  silver,  and  perfume  and 
sweets  for  the  tongue  are  to  women  more  than  a  far- 
away master." 

"What  meanest  thou,  Abla  ?" 

"O  lady,  look  not  upon  thy  servant  with  so  dark  a 
cloud  upon  thy  brow,  lest  she  perish." 

"Thou  answerest  me  not.     Speak." 

"And  thou  wilt  not  chide  me  ?" 

"Thou  hast  my  word." 

"Then,  most  beautiful  one — whose  hair  is  like  unto 
the  woven  dreams  of  a  moonless  night,  whose  flesh  is 
like  unto  the  fabric  of  rose-leaf,  whose  eyes  are  soft  as 
a  young  deer's  in  mating  time,  whose " 


PRYING  EYES  IN  THE  NIGHT  65 

"Have  done,"  interrupted  the  other.  "That  is  no 
answer." 

"With  thy  beauty,"  persisted  the  girl  unheeding, 
"thou  canst  well  he  the  favorite  of  the  harem." 

"I  am  the  wife  of  Attar,"  Aletra  answered  simply. 
"Foolish  Abla,  these  tempt  not  me,"  touching  lightly 
the  garments  and  the  shawl  about  her  shoulders.  "And 
again,"  she  continued,  smiling,  "thou  forgettest  the 
princess." 

"Her  sun  would  be  set  forever,  and  thou  wouldst 
reign  over  the  harem  in  gentleness  for  many  a  year." 

Aletra  shook  her  head  in  protest. 

"Think  well,  O  lady,  over  the  words  of  thy  slave 
who  would  die  for  thee." 

Suddenly  Aletra  put  her  finger  to  her  lips. 

"Hast  heard  aught,  Abla?"  she  whispered,  scarce 
breathing. 

"Nay,  not  now,"  said  the  girl,  listening.  "But  often 
in  the  night." 

"Whence  did  it  come?  Should  there  perchance  be 
an  opening  beyond  the  hangings  in  the  wall,  'twere 
easy  to  look  through  the  jewels  in  the  tapestry." 

"Then  would  thy  beauty  be  no  secret." 

They  listened  for  hours,  but  heard  no  sound  save  the 
muezzin's  call  to  midnight  prayer  floating  softly  on  the 
windless  night. 

"On  the  morrow,"  whispered  Aletra,  "I  go  forth — 
and  none  shall  stay  me.  But  to-day  I  said  unto  her 
that  word  should  be  sent  to  the  Sultan  that  she  was 
healed." 

"What  answer  made  she?" 

"  'An  thou  dost,'  she  said,  'I  will  throw  myself  into 
such  frenzy  of  torment  that  he  will  not  believe  thee.' ' 


66  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"O  lady,  an  thou  wouldst  go  forth  on  the  morrow, 
thou  hast  but  to  show  the  princess  thy  face — and  she 
will  be  healed,  and  send  thee  right  speedily !': 

The  next  day,  being  the  eighth  day  since  Aletra  had 
come  to  the  palace,  she  made  ready  to  depart. 

Entering  the  presence  of  the  favorite,  she  said 
calmly : 

"To-day  I  leave  thee,  O  princess,  to  return  unto  my 
people." 

"Thou  sayest  bravely,"  she  answered.  "I  am  not 
yet  sound,  and  thou  hast  not  given  me  the  secret  of  the 
draft — nor  yet  have  I  seen  thy  face.  Art  thou  a  man, 
that  thou  hidest  thyself  from  women  ?" 

"Let  all  but  thee  depart,  O  lady,  and  I  will  show 
thee  my  face,"  Aletra  made  answer. 

The  princess  clapped  her  hands. 

"Go  forth — even  to  the  last  one,"  she  commanded, 
"and  make  fast  the  doors." 

Aletra  was  clad  in  the  garments  of  tinted  silk  that 
she  had  found  in  her  room,  and  looked  like  a  rose  in 
delicate  pink  bloom.  When  she  threw  off  the  dark  hoik 
and  veil  that  enveloped  her,  she  stood  forth  a  dream 
of  exquisite  beauty.  Fatma  sprang  from  the  divan  like 
a  great  cat. 

"What  art  thou — a  houri  from  paradise  ?"  she  asked. 

Aletra  smiled  and  answered : 

"I  am  a  woman,  anhungered  for  the  sight  of  mine 
own  people.  Wilt  thou  let  me  go,  O  princess?" 

"I  can  deny  thee  nothing,"  the  other  sighed.  "Wilt 
thou  go  in  the  evening,  or  now,  so  that  thou  mayst  be 
with  thy  people  at  nightfall  prayer  ?" 

"It  would  delight  my  heart,  O  lady,  to  go  within 
the  hour,"  Aletra  answered. 


PEYING  EYES  IN  THE  NIGHT  67 

Then  the  favorite  took  from  her  arm  a  bracelet  of 
Egyptian  gold,  jeweled  and  carved  like  a  serpent,  and 
gave  it  to  her. 

"Now,  wrap  thy  haik  well  about  thee — and  cover 
thy  face  well;  and  let  not  Babek  see  thee.  And  thou 
canst  go.  I  am  healed." 

"Wilt  thou,  O  princess,  send  such  word  unto  the 
master,  the  defender  of  the  faithful,  that  I  need  not 
vex  him  with  my  presence  ?"  said  Aletra. 

The  favorite  looked  long  into  her  eyes  and  questioned : 

"Thou  lovest  thine  own  master?" 

"Thou  art  a  sorceress,  O  lady.     Thou  art  right." 

The  other  laughed. 

"Then  go — and  may  Allah  guard  thee  safely  to  thine 
own  people.  I  will  send  such  word  to  the  master  as 
will  speed  thee  on  thy  journey  without  delay." 

Within  the  hour  Aletra  was  ready  to  depart;  but 
Babek  brought  the  commands  of  the  Sultan  that  she 
come  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A    HOURI    FROM    PARADISE 

A  GREAT  change  had  come  in  the  inner  court  of  the 
Sultan's  harem  since  the  day  Aletra  came  to  the 
palace. 

The  tiny  stream  that  ran  through  it,  and  that  had 
been  silent  then,  now  purled  with  musical  insistence 
over  barriers  of  coral,  and  diverged  here  and  there  into 
confining  banks  of  carved  marble.  The  long  leaves  of 
the  Egyptian  lotus  showed  dark  green  against  the 
Parian  whiteness ;  and  in  quiet  little  pools  hundreds  of 
small  iridescent  fish  disported  themselves. 

Further  back  were  divans  of  carved  mother-of-pearl, 
of  teak  and  olive-wood,  and  of  brazen  metal,  against 
the  walls,  which  were  covered  with  Tunisian  silks 
wrought  in  harmonious  chromatic  scales  of  color. 

At  the  opening  to  the  different  corridors  hung  heavy 
silken  rugs,  softly  shaded,  pale  as  the  dawn,  glowing 
amber  as  the  desert  at  noonday  under  the  sun,  deep 
as  the  shadows  that  haunt  the  sacred  groves.  The  lives 
of  many  had  gone  into  these  rugs — generations  of  the 
faithful,  from  the  furthermost  parts  of  Islam — Ispahan, 
Bokhara,  Mecca,  holy  Khairwan,  wherever  the  muezzin 
called.  As  they  prayed  one  prayer — the  eternal  "Allah 
hu  Ak  Bar!  Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!"  so  they  wrought  one 
harmony  into  the  rugs,  with  never  a  discord. 

68 


A  HOUKI  FEOM  PAEADISE  69 

The  soft  arpeggios  of  color  ran  from  the  deepest  bass 
to  the  palest  flutelike  treble,  with  the  softness  of  ex- 
quisite fluency.  Along  the  middle  register  the  chords 
of  blue  and  pale  saffron  and  rose  and  amber  were  en- 
trancing. 

The  bright  daylight  from  above  revealed  much  that 
could  not  be  seen  the  day  before;  while  in  the  alcoves 
that  had  been  dark  on  her  arrival  the  first  day,  lights 
of  different  colors  gleamed  from  lamps  of  crystal  and 
amethyst  and  richly  jeweled  brasses. 

Hundreds  of  birds  with  bright  plumage  flitted  among 
the  flowering  rosetrees  from  Lebanon,  that  grew  on  the 
banks  of  the  stream  and  sang  or  chirped  their  happiness. 

Of  a  truth,  Babek  knew  how  to  read  the  heart  of  his 
royal  master.  Did  he  sorrow  ?  There  were  dim  lights, 
few  flowers,  no  birds,  silently  moving  gray-swathed 
slaves — nothing  to  contradict  or  irritate  his  mood.  Did 
he  rejoice  as  to-day  ?  Hundreds  of  birds  were  loosed ; 
the  waters  were  given  full  flow  through  the  mimic 
river;  flowers  without  number  shed  their  perfume; 
Tombouctuan  incense  twigs  burned  in  dragonlike 
braziers  hundreds  of  years  old,  while  musk  and  amber 
and  aloe  and  cassia,  sandal  and  Turkish  ouried  mingled 
in  a  sensuous  symphony. 

Beautiful  slaves  with  tinkling  armlets  and  anklets 
moved  like  butterflies  among  the  rose  foliage,  barely 
touching  the  floor  in  their  fairy  lightness.  Also  many 
of  the  younger  women  of  the  harem,  from  different 
parts  of  the  world,  were  brought  before  him  on  this  day. 

There  were  faces  on  which  the  story  of  desert  an- 
cestry was  written.  Bright-haired  Kabyle  girls  who  had 
dipped  their  feet  in  the  waters  of  the  Oued  Sehou  or 
had  run  like  the  deer  among  the  peaks  of  the  Djurdjura 


70  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Mountains ;  beautiful  women  with  the  blood  of  Romans 
and  Greeks  and  haughty  Castilians  in  their  veins; 
proudly  stepping  damsels  from  Damascus.  A  garden 
of  human  flowers  sprung  from  many  nations,  clad  like 
poppies  in  multicolored  raiment,  and  tinkling  with 
bracelets  and  anklets  of  gold  and  silver,  earrings  and 
belts  having  many  jeweled  pendants. 

This  was  a  day  of  rejoicing,  for  had  not  the  light 
of  the  harem  smiled  once  more  in  the  fullness  of  health  ? 
And  was  it  not  Babek's  province  to  express  his  master's 
delight  by  ministering  to  every  sense? 

There  was  soft  music  everywhere,  as  if  emanating 
from  the  hearts  of  the  flowers  or  the  moving  water  of 
the  stream.  Little  tom-toms  sounded  like  a  background 
beyond  the  first  wall ;  and  the  shriek  of  a  hautboy  could 
be  heard  dimly  through  many  walls. 

The  Sultan  asked  for  a  rose.  A  dozen  nimble  feet 
ran  to  fetch  it.  One  girl,  swifter  than  the  rest — a 
dancer  who  had  been  found  in  Algeria  by  the  ever- 
watchful  eye  of  Babek,  and  brought  to  the  harem — was 
the  first  to  reach  him.  Her  feet  barely  touched  the 
ground;  and  as  she  flew  to  him  she  circled  several 
times  upon  the  rug  at  his  feet,  put  the  stem  of  the  rose 
in  her  mouth  and  bent  backward  so  that  the  beautiful 
long  curve  of  her  throat  lay  before  him. 

But  he  looked  coldly  upon  her.  Again  she  swung 
her  beautiful  body  into  circles — this  time  holding  the 
rose  in  her  henna-tinted  fingers,  and  bending  so  that 
her  lips,  red  with  stain  of  mesouak,  touched  his  hand, 
while  her  kohl-tinted  eyes  gazed  up  at  him  with  steady 
brilliancy.  He  took  the  rose  and  smiled  faintly;  and 
the  girl  withdrew. 

Into  this  Eden  of  form  and  color  and  scent  and 


71 

sound,  Aletra  was  brought  to  receive  her  reward  for 
healing  the  princess.  The  rejoicing  had  begun  early. 
Aletra  hardly  recognized  the  court  wherein  she  had 
tarried  so  short  a  time  on  her  arrival;  and  the  face  of 
the  commander  of  the  faithful  was  so  changed  from  the 
fear-stricken  one  she  remembered  that  she  was  loath  to 
believe  it  was  the  same,  as  he  smilingly  bade  her  to 
come  before  him. 

The  something  noble  that  comes  from  habitual  com- 
mand was  in  his  face,  till  almost  he  seemed  brave;  and 
his  white  silk  garments  fell  about  him  as  became  one 
appointed  by  Allah. 

"Here,  O  prophetess,"  he  said,  "is  the  sapphire  I 
pledged  to  thee.  It  hath  once  been  the  treasure  of  a 
great  sorcerer  who  was  wont  to  work  magic  by  looking 
into  its  depths.  With  it  hath  he  brought  before  his 
eye  far  places,  and  the  image  of  those  he  willed  came 
in  answer  to  his  call  when  he  looked  upon  it.  And  here 
are  pearls. 

"And  further  will  I  give  thee  of  any  goods  that  thou 
mayst  ask  of  my  hands;  for  behold  the  princess  hath 
sent  me  a  rose,  and  in  its  heart  she  hath  thrust  a  scroll, 
saying,  'I  am  as  a  bird  in  the  springtime,  calling  unto  its 
mate.  My  body  is  healed,  and  my  heart  calleth  for 
thee.'  I  rejoice  in  thy  magic,  O  Jeppa." 

Aletra  took  the  glittering  jewels  and  could  not  sub- 
due a  cry  of  delight.  This  pleased  him,  for  he  was  in 
happy  heart ;  and  he  said  again : 

"What  further  is  thy  wish  ?" 

And  Aletra  made  answer: 

"The  slave-girl,  Abla— 

But  before  she  had  finished  he  had  waved  his  hand 
to  Babek,  saying:  "Bring  her." 


72  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Then,  turning  to  Aletra,  he  repeated : 

"And  what  further?  Of  silken  stuffs  or  rugs,  say 
what  thou  wilt." 

But  she  feared  to  tarry,  and  said  modestly: 

"Thou  hast  given  enough,  O  mighty  Sultan,  and  a 
thousandfold  too  much." 

"Not  for  the  Ranee's  life,"  he  assured  her. 

Then  he  bade  a  slave  bring  shawls  of  different  colors, 
and  rugs,  and  silver  veils,  heavy  with  sequins;  and 
when  Abla  was  brought  he  bade  her  carry  them  for  her 
new  mistress. 

"And  now,  Salaam  Alek,  O  Jeppa!  Thou  art  a 
good  woman,  in  whom  thy  husband  and  children  should 
rejoice.  Allah  guard  the©  and  keep  thee — thee  and 
thy  people." 

Then  Babek  came  toward  her  to  take  her  away  into 
the  outer  court  and  set  her  on  her  journey.  He  carried 
a  great  bird  with  bright  plumage  and  an  ivorylike 
beak;  and  he  said  to  Aletra  as  he  stooped  low  toward 
her: 

"This  is  my  gift  to  thee,  O  prophetess."  And  he 
came  very  close  to  her. 

He  held  the  head  of  the  bird  in  his  hand ;  but  even 
as  he  spoke,  and  as  if  it  had  been  the  beak  of  the  bird, 
he  suddenly  plucked  the  veil  from  her  face. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  SULTAN'S  DECISION 

ALETRA  tried  to  cover  her  face,  but  tlie  Sultan 
cried : 

"Let  be!  Let  be!"  Then  turning  to  Babek:  "De- 
part!" And  extending  his  arm  toward  the  women: 
"And  these  also — take  them  hence!" 

Then  to  Abla,  who  moved  not:  "Thou  canst  wait 
thy  mistress  in  the  outer  court." 

Babek  prostrated  himself,  but  smiled  secretly  as  he 
turned  and  led  Abla  away.  When  the  curtain  dropped 
upon  the  others,  and  they  were  alone,  the  Sultan  com- 
manded : 

"Come  hither,  and  tell  me  why  thou  hast  sought  to 
hide  thy  face  from  me." 

"For  that  I  have  been  taught  by  the  Koran  that  my 
face  and  my  duty  belong  to  my  master." 

"Why  comest  thou  not  to  me  ?" 

Aletra  stood  with  her  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground, 
made  no  answer,  nor  moved  a  step. 

"Thou  art  as  beautiful  as  a  pomegranate  when  it  is 
ripening." 

Then  as  he  continued  to  look  upon  her : 

"Thou  shalt  have  thy  slaves  and  all  that  Omar  can 
give  thee — for  my  heart  goeth  out  to  thee.  Come  hither 
upon  the  rug  at  my  feet  and  lift  thine  eyes  to  mine." 

73 


74  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Aletra  was  stricken  with,  a  great  fear,  and  the  white 
beauty  of  her  face  touched  him  with  a  strange  com- 
passion, so  that  he  was  not  wroth  with  her  disobedience. 
He  said  after  a  time: 

"Thou  wilt  not?     Then  must  I  e'en  come  to  thee." 

But  Aletra,  fearing  him,  lifted  her  head  and,  looking 
into  his  eyes,  pleaded  with  humility : 

"0  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  great  and  good  art 
thou.  Suffer  me  to  go  hence  with  thy  blessing. 
Allah  hath  heard  thy  prayers  and  my  prayers — and  the 
princess  whose  beauty  is  as  glorious  as  the  morning, 
hath  been  saved  to  thee." 

The  Sultan,  while  he  appeared  to  be  listening,  heard 
not  a  word — so  dazzled  was  he  with  the  soft,  pleading 
witchery  of  her  eyes.  After  a  time  he  spoke: 

"Yea,  thou  art  a  swaying  lotus-blossom,"  he  said,  as 
if  communing  with  himself;  "a  houri  escaped  from 
paradise." 

With  this  he  rose  and  came  toward  her.  Aletra  fled 
lightly.  He  followed,  and  his  eyes  were  terrible  in 
their  intensity.  But  when  he  had  overtaken  her,  he 
held  her  from  him — better  to  drink  in  the  sight  of  her 
beauty.  She  besought  him  piteously  to  send  her  forth 
to  her  people,  but  he  heard  not  a  word. 

Fearing  to  madden  him  by  struggling,  she  drew  away 
from  him,  step  by  step,  he  following  gently.  At  last 
he  said,  holding  her  hand  firmly : 

"Harken  unto  reason.  Omar  will  have  what  his  heart 
craveth.  Are  not  wives  given  and  taken  every  day,  and 
no  one  maketh  a  cry  ?  I  seek  not  to  rob  thy  husband. 
He  shall  have  riches  and  other  wives;  but  thee  will  I 
have." 

"I  am  the  wife  of  Attar,"  said  Aletra  simply,  when 


THE  SULTAN'S  DECISION  75 

ho  paused,  "and  though  thou  art  great,  there  is  one 
greater  than  thou,  even  Allah.  The  meanest  of  thy 
slaves  knoweth  the  obligations  of  a  wife." 

"Thy  speech  charmeth  me,  as  doth  thy  face,  O  Jeppa. 
But  thinkest  thou  thy  master  will  think  of  thee  when 
he  chooseth  another  wife,  and  longeth  for  the  day  when 
he  may  sit  beside  her  on  the  rug?" 

Aletra  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  the  daughters  of 
the  man  from  Aka.  Seeing  this,  he  smiled  and  con- 
tinued : 

"Then,  when  thou  art  forsaken,  perchance  wouldst 
thou  come  to  Omar.  But  I  want  not  that  which  an- 
other man  hath  cast  aside.  I  want  thee  now — to-day. 
The  softest  rugs  from  beyond  the  desert  shall  lie  at  thy 
feet.  Perfume  of  a  hundred  Persian  rose-gardens  shall 
be  distilled  for  thy  delight.  Thou  shalt  have  every  color 
of  the  rainbow  cunningly  caught  in  thy  silken  raiment, 
and  thy  jewels  shall  be  worth  a  king's  ransom." 

"O  Sultan,"  she  began,  with  proudly  lifted  head ;  but 
he  broke  upon  her  speech  not  ungently : 

"Keep  silence  that  Omar  may  finish.  Thou  shalt 
clap  thy  little  hands,  and  an  hundred  slaves  shall  answer 
to  thy  pleasure;  for  thou  wilt  be  the  Nburmahal — the 
pearl  of  the  harem.  And  what  wilt  thou  give  for  all 
this,  that  delighteth  the  heart  of  a  woman  ?  Thou  wilt 
but  be  kind  to  Omar;  thou  wilt  smile  upon  him  and 
sing  a  ghazal  for  him;  thou  wilt  give  him  thy  lips 
when  thou  wouldst  have  him  know  the  blessedness  of 
paradise.  For  his  heart  will  be  beneath  thy  sandal,  and 
his  will  tangles  in  the  meshes  of  thy  hair." 

Aletra  looked  deep  and  long  into  the  glowing  eyes 
so  near  her  own;  and  with  the  world-old  knowledge  of 
woman,  she  felt  that  it  were  as  easy  to  turn  the  course 


76  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

of  the  Nile  as  to  change  his  purpose  or  touch  his  heart 
with  pleading  or  prayer  or  anger  or  tears. 

So  she  answered  with  guile:     "Thou  art  tempting." 

And  he  smiled:  "Nay,  O  Jeppa;  I  but  awaken  thy 
reason." 

"But  thou  art  over  all  the  poeple.  What  will  Islam 
say?  That  thou  hast  stolen  another  man's  wife — yet 
will  they  but  speak  the  truth.  And  I  shall  be  unholy 
before  Allah — a  false  wife." 

"I  will  buy  thee  from  thy  husband  after." 

"Then,  buy  thou  me  first" 

"But  thou  wilt  leave  me." 

"Yea,  till  thou  takest  me  as  wife." 

"I  cannot  let  thee  hence." 

"It  is  the  one  way."    And  Aletra's  voice  was  firm. 

"It  is  my  will  that  thou  stayest." 

"It  is  my  will  that  I  go  hence." 

"Which  hath  the  greater  power?"  laughed  the  Sul- 
tan. "I  but  plead  to  please  thine  ear  for  that  which  I 
can  take." 

"Yet  are  there  things  thou  canst  not  take." 

"What  can  I  not  take?"  he  asked,  delighted  with  the 
spirit  of  her  words. 

"My  heart." 

"Nay;  I  were  a  fool  to  crave  it  where  thy  body  is 
so  divine,"  he  interrupted. 

Not  heeding  him,  she  continued : 

"Thou  canst  make  me  hate  thee,  but  thou  canst  not 
make  me  love  thee.  Thou  canst  not  paint  a  smile  upon 
my  face,  or  lift  my  arms  willingly  about  thy  neck,  or 
raise  my  lips  with  desire  to  thine.  These  things,  the 
warmth  and  the  willingness  of  my  love,  are  the  gifts  of 
my  soul." 


THE  SULTAN'S  DECISION  77 

"Thou  speakest  with  rare  wisdom,"  he  answered 
when  he  had  looked  long  upon  her.  "Also  knowest  thou 
the  heart  of  a  man  and  that  which  he  craveth.  Thou 
art  mine,  yet  would  I  know  the  price  of  the  unseen 
things  that  are  within  thy  gift." 

Slowly  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  they  were  filled  with 
innocent  trouble. 

"O  mighty  Sultan,"  she  said  at  last,  "  'tis  but  a  small 
boon  I  ask  of  thee:  The  master  hath  journeyed  from 
Tunis,  and  there  are  those  within  the  harem  that  I  love. 
Suffer  me  to  return  thither  and  wait  thy  summons,  and 
when  thy  gracious  offer  for  my  poor  beauty  hath  been 
accepted,  then  will  I  return  to  the  seraglio — an  thou 
still  desirest  me." 

"Where  fareth  thy  master?"  asked  the  Sultan. 

"How  may  a  woman  know  ?  But  aught  thou  sendest 
to  the  Bazaar  of  Nazrullah  and  Al  Hassen  will  find  him 
right  speedily." 

"But  thy  soul  asketh  of  me  to  lose  thee  for  a  time. 
If  thou  wouldst  but  tempt  me  to  do  somewhat  rash  to 
possess  thee!  But  thou  tempest  me  with  thy  lips  to 
deny  my  own,  to  let  thee  go.  What  manner  of  houri 
art  thou?  I  will  not  wait." 

"Then  why  speakest  thou  of  thy  heart  beneath  my 
sandal,  and " 

"It  is  for  love  of  thee  that  I  will  not  let  thee  hence." 

"Then,  O  Sultan,  thou  wilt  have  the  rose  without 
the  perfume,  the  bird  without  the  song,  the  woman 
without  her  love.  Is  not  the  perfume,  the  song,  the 
love,  more  than  the  other — nay,  the  very  soul  of 
pleasure  ?" 

Then,  casting  aside  the  black  haik  in  which  she  was 


78  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

muffled,  she  stood  before  him  in  the  full  glory  of  her 
beauty,  as  the  princess  had  beheld  her. 

"Am  I  worth  the  waiting?"  she  asked,  with  gently 
lowered  head  and  arm  outstretched. 

The  Sultan  gazed  upon  her  with  delight,  and  as  he 
looked  she  wove  the  magic  of  her  smile  about  him  till 
she  felt  that  he  grew  weak  to  do  her  will. 

"Is  the  conquering  of  a  woman's  heart  as  nothing? 
Will  I  not  know  thee  for  a  just  man,  keeping  the  law 
of  Islam,  of  Allah  ?" 

"Yet  is  it  grievous  hard,  that  which  thou  askest  of 
me." 

"Grievous  hard?"  repeated  Aletra,  and  her  brows 
darkened  with  anger  and  her  lip  curled.  "Thou  mean- 
est I  am  not  worth  a  few  days  or  weeks  of  waiting  ?" 

"Nay,  turn  not  so  darkling  a  brow  upon  me — thou  art 
worth  an  eternity  of  waiting.  I  shall  praise  Allah  if 
in  paradise  there  is  one  like  unto  thee." 

"Now  speakest  thou  from  thy  princely  heart,"  said 
the  girl,  smiling  divinely  upon  him.  "Now  do  I  see 
the  richness  of  thy  heart's  treasure,  that  the  woman 
thou  lovest  shall  find." 

Her  words  filled  him  with  pleasure  and  pride. 

"Thou  art  once  more  a  mighty  man,"  she  continued, 
"strong  in  justice  and  the  right  of  Allah ;  for  that  thou 
art  willing  to  do  a  great  deed — to  battle  with  thyself 
against  thyself,  and  conquer." 

She  could  see  that  he  was  giving  her  words  considera- 
tion, and  straightway  began  to  swathe  the  silver  veil 
about  her  shoulders,  speaking  the  while : 

"The  conquerer  hath  scant  pleasure  in  the  slaves 
which  he  taketh  in  battle;  but  thinketh  of  the  woman 
who  hath  waited  him,  the  woman  who  counteth  the  days 


THE  SULTAN'S  DECISION  79 

and  even  the  nights  till  she  shall  behold  him,  and  pour 
the  attar  of  her  heart  at  his  feet." 

"Wouldst  thou  so  count  the  days  and  even  the  nights, 
O  Jeppa?" — and  his  face  was  gentle,  till  nearly  it 
seemed  beautiful. 

"Even  so  shall  I  count  the  hours  when  I  fare  forth 
from  thee,"  she  answered. 

He  looked  long  into  her  eyes,  and  the  glory  of  them 
made  his  will  grow  weak. 

As  he  spoke  not,  Aletra  held  the  flashing  sapphire 
and  pearls  toward  him. 

"And  thou  dost  not  trust  me,  I  leave  these  with  thee. 
And  thou  knowest  well  'tis  not  within  the  heart  of 
woman  to  part  with  such  jewels." 

"Nay,  take  them,"  he  said;  "but  know,  O  Rose  of 
the  Dawn,  thou  takest  not  alone  jewels  and  rugs  and 
silk  stuff  with  thee,  but  the  heart  of  Omar  as  well. 
Be  heedful  of  it;  do  all  thou  canst  to  hasten  thy 
return  unto  me.  And  I  will  send  my  offer  unto 
thy  master  this  day.  In  all  will  I  delay  my  happiness 
seven  days,  that  I  may  have  the  perfume,  the  song,  and 
the  love,"  he  smiled ;  "but  on  the  morning  of  the  seventh 
day  my  slaves  will  wait  before  the  door  of  thy  house 
and  bring  thee  again  to  the  seraglio  where  awaiteth  thee 
royal  homage  and  a  Sultan's  favor. 

"Think  not/'  he  said,  reading  her  countenance,  "that 
thy  master  will  refuse.  An  he  would  so  risk  his  sta- 
tion, that  which  I  shall  offer  for  thee  could  'no  man 
refuse.  I  will  set  him  over  a  desert  city  and  enrich  him 
with  lands  and  slaves  and — other  wives." 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words,  he  came  nearer,  and  noting 
the  sudden  whiteness  of  her  face,  he  thought  he  had 
affrighted  her. 


80  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Meantime,  O  my  pomegranate  blossom,  the  fairest 
food  in  my  mouth  will  turn  bitter ;  the  flowers  will  seem 
faded;  the  sweetest  music  will  ring  discords  in  my 
ear." 

As  he  paused,  Aletra  wound  her  veils  about  her. 

"But  wait,"  he  pleaded.  "Before  thou  swathest  thy- 
self in  the  darkness  of  thy  haik,  hast  thou  no  gentle 
favor  for  Omar,  that  he,  remembering,  may  feast 
upon  ?" 

Aletra  lifted  her  round  young  arms,  took  his  face 
between  her  hands,  drew  it  down,  and  bending  lightly 
toward  him,  laid  her  lips  upon  his  brow.  Then, 
before  he  should  detain  her,  she  turned  swiftly  from  his 
presence  out  into  the  court  where  Abla  waited;  past 
Babek,  who  stared  in  amaze  when  he  saw  her,  and 
toward  the  great  gate. 

"Open !"  she  commanded  Babek. 

"Doth  the  commander  of  the  faithful  let  thee  go 
hence?"  he  asked. 

"An  thy  life  would  be  easy  when  I  return,  thou 
shouldst  obey  without  question,"  she  answered. 

But  even  as  she  spoke,  a  slave  ran  forward  and  told 
him  to  send  her  to  her  people  with  all  possible  comfort 
and  state. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN   THE   DESOLATE  DOVE-COTE 

So  Aletra's  return  journey  was  begun.  Tremblingly 
had  she  come,  lest  she  suffer  if  the  princess  die. 
Returning,  she  was  rich  with  jewels.  Abla  looked  won- 
deringly  at  her  new  mistress  but  questioned  not,  as  be- 
came her  station.  Yet  she  thought  her  far  from  wise 
to  leave  the  Sultan  if  he  wanted  her  to  stay. 

Aletra  spoke  little.  The  only  thought  that  smote 
her  and  spoiled  the  happiness  of  her  departure  was  her 
deceit  of  Omar,  whose  eyes  were  ever  before  her  as  she 
had  looked  upon  them  last.  Then  she  thought  of 
Attar,  and  straightway  forgot  the  look  in  the  other's 
eyes. 

They  returned  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  two  white 
horses.  As  she  neared  home,  she  was  enraptured  at  the 
thought  of  seeing  Jeppa  again;  and  with  the  delight 
of  a  child  pictured  herself  unfolding  the  silken  shawls 
and  giving  to  each  one — Jeppa,  little  Zema  and  Zu- 
laykha  and  her  baby,  all  should  have  something.  So 
plainly  did  she  see  them  all,  that  she  smiled  and  spoke 
very  softly  to  Abla. 

"Art  thou  sorry  to  fare  forth  from  the  seraglio?  I 
promised  thee  to  give  thee  thy  freedom  an  thou  wouldst 
be  a  friend  to  me,  and  now  I  give  it  thee." 

"And  wouldst  thou  drive  me  from  thy  presence,  O 
Jeppa?"  cried  Abla  in  despair. 

81 


82  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Nay,  thou  mayst  bide  with  me — it  would  grieve  me 
sore  to  lose  thee." 

"Then  keep  thou  me  as  a  slave;  and  if  I  can  serve, 
though  it  draw  the  last  breath  from  my  body,  thou  shalt 
not  find  Abla  lacking." 

"Say  not  overmuch.  Thou  little  knowest  how  I  may 
call  upon  thee,"  Aletra  answered ;  for  the  days  to  come 
were  hidden  from  her  eyes  as  by  a  stone  wall,  and 
she  wished  not  to  think  of  them,  nor  to  speak  of  them, 
till  she  had  taken  counsel  with  Jeppa,  in  whose  wisdom 
she  trusted  as  a  child  does  in  its  mother. 

"Jeppa  would  know;  Jeppa  would  make  all  clear," 
was  her  hope. 

As  they  came  nearer,  so  consumed  was  she  with 
thoughts,  and  so  rejoiced  at  her  freedom  and  the  near 
prospect  of  being  so  soon  with  Jeppa  again,  that  she 
took  no  heed  of  the  gloom  on  the  faces  of  the  men  they 
passed,  nor  noted  the  many  funerals  that  were  halted 
on  the  way  to  change  pall-bearers,  that  each  might  have 
the  attendant  luck  of  this  office.  When  they  reached 
the  abode  of  Al  Hassen  she  was  amazed  to  find  that 
the  outer  door  stood  open,  and  when  they  had  entered 
her  amazement  grew  that  none  moved  about  in  the 
court. 

She  called  not,  fearing  lest  any  should  know  that  she 
had  gone  in  place  of  Jeppa,  But,  bidding  Abla  wait 
in  the  court,  she  went  alone  into  the  harem. 

"Jeppa!"  she  cried;  "Jeppa!  It  is  Aletra,  come 
back." 

Getting  no  answer,  she  called : 

"Zulaykha,  Zulaykha!" 

Then,  "Hamed!     Selim!" 


IN  THE  DESOLATE  DOVE-COTE  83 

But  none  made  answer.  No  sound  came  from  the 
men's  quarters.  She  went  from  room  to  room,  calling 
each  by  name.  In  Jeppa's  room  there  was  unusual  con- 
fusion ;  in  her  own,  the  veil  that  she  had  discarded  lay 
as  she  had  thrown  it,  half  on  the  bed,  half  on  the  floor. 
Jeppa's  half-finished  embroidery  lay  upon  the  cushions. 

In  Zulaykha's  room  also  there  was  disorder:  an  unj 
emptied  basin,  a  litter  of  Hafiz's  little  shirts  and  other 
clothing.  Again  she  called,  but  getting  no  answer  she 
fled  to  the  Salamlik.  As  she  stood  upon  the  threshold, 
a  small  door  in  the  outer  wall  was  opened,  and  Selim 
entered. 

"Aletra !     Thou !"  he  cried,  "Allah  be  praised." 

"Have  all  departed?  Speak,  O  Selim,"  she  com- 
manded. "Why  lookest  thou  upon  me  thus?  Where 
bide  they:  Jeppa  and  Zulaykha  and  Zema — all?"  she 
besought,  laying  hold  of  his  garment. 

"Jeppa,"  said  the  boy,  sorrowfully,  "Jeppa  hath  gone 
to  the  gardens  that  Allah  hath  prepared  for  all  good 
women.  With  her  have  gone  Zulaykha — Zema — 
Hafiz " 

"O  Allah!  Allah!  Allah!  Had  I  but  come 
sooner!"  she  cried,  and  she  tore  her  garments  and  the 
jeweled  veil  that  covered  her  face,  and  beat  upon  her 
breast. 

Hearing  her  cry,  Abla  came  from  the  court  where  she 
waited,  and  Aletra  poured  the  black  tidings  into  the 
girl's  ear. 

"Would  I  had  stayed!  Would  I  had  perished  with 
them!"  she  moaned;  and  she  tore  away  from  Abla's 
ministering  hands  and  listened  not  to  Selim's  words  of 
solace,  and  would  not  be  comforted. 


84  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

After  a  time  the  boy,  who  in  the  master's  absence 
was  the  head  of  the  house,  commanded  her  to  stop  weep- 
ing lest  she  fall  ill. 

"Peace,"  said  Abla,  in  her  childish  voice  that  seemed 
so  alien  to  her  words.  "Peace.  When  Allah  hath  not 
of  joy  sufficient  to  give  unto  the  world,  he  giveth  tears." 

Thus  admonished,  the  boy  kept  silent,  and  Abla  min- 
istered to  her  mistress.  Looking  upon  Abla,  Selim 
straightened  himself  to  his  full  height,  and  arranged 
his  dark  TwJbrd,  and  even  in  the  moment  that  she  soothed 
Aletra  she  saw  and  was  not  displeased.  So  fell  the 
seed  of  love  in  the  loam  of  death ;  and,  as  it  quickened, 
a  thrill  of  life  ran  through  the  house  of  desolation. 

As  if  a  word  of  comfort  had  been  spoken,  Aletra 
lifted  her  head  from  Abla's  arm  and  told  of  her  journey 
to  the  seraglio  in  place  of  Jeppa. 

"And  art  thou  not  Jeppa  ?"  asked  Abla,  wonderingly. 

"Nay,  therefore  am  I  unconsoled.  I  trod  the  path 
of  life,  and  left  her  to  the  black  death." 

As  she  spoke,  she  cried  anew  in  her  distress.  Selim 
questioned,  but  told  her  not  of  Zulaykha's  word  that  she, 
Aletra,  had  gone  right  willingly  that  she  might  escape 
the  plague  when  first  Zema  was  stricken.  Thus  the 
sin  of  Zulaykha's  tortured  heart  lay  hidden  with  her 
soft  olive  body  till  she  should  hear  the  call  to  paradise. 

"I  asked  thy  freedom,  Abla,  but  to  give  it  thee,"  she 
said  brokenly  at  last.  "Yet  were  it  best,  perchance, 
that  thou  return  again  to  the  seraglio.  Selim,  my  kins- 
man, shall  take  thee  hither,  an  thou  wiliest — 

"Why  hold  her  freedom  so  lightly?"  said  Selim,  be- 
fore Abla  could  answer.  "Thou  art  overborne  with 
the  sorrow  of  the  moment.  Calm  thy  fear ;  I  will  take 


IN  THE  DESOLATE  DOVE-COTE  85 

ye  both  to  a  place  of  safety  where  ye  can  bide  till  word 
cometh  from  the  master." 

"  'A  place  of  safety/  sayest  thou  ?  A  place  of  safety 
canst  thou  not  find  in  all  Tunisia  wherein  to  hide  me !" 
she  made  answer. 

"Why  sayest  thou  so?"  questioned  Selim. 

"For  that  a  hundred  eyes  are  upon  me.  The  Sultan 
desireth  me — even  now  he  sendeth  an  offer  to  the 
master — an  offer  that  would  tempt  any  Moslem  in 
Tunisia." 

Then  she  set  forth  all  that  had  befallen  her  since 
Jeppa  had  sent  her  forth  with  the  draft — all  but  the 
promise  to  return  to  the  Sultan. 

"Then — then "  faltered  Selim — "then  why  hast 

thou  come  hither  again?  Thinkest  thou  my  kinsman 
will  refuse  the  Sultan?  Thinkest  thou  his  life  would 
be  worth  aught  an  he  were  so  foolish  ?  Even  if  thou 
wouldst  turn  thy  back  upon  the  royal  favor." 

"Selim/'  said  Aletra,  and  suddenly  she  seemed  taller 
of  stature,  "thou  speakest  to  thy  kinsman's  wife.  And 
till  he  bestow  her  upon  another,  she  will  remain  as  be- 
cometh  a  good  woman." 

The  boy  lowered  his  head,  and  she  spoke  again : 

"Thou  shalt  put  Abla  in  a  place  of  safety  and  go 
thine  own  way.  I  fare  forth  in  the  night  and  seek  the 
desert  road — the  road  which  leadeth  to  Tombouctu  and 
beyond,  to  the  Village  of  the  Weavers,  where  bideth  the 
master's  kinsman." 

"I  leave  thee  not,"  said  Abla,  and  Aletra  made 
answer : 

"None  shall  fare  with  me,  lest  they  betray  me  to  the 
eyes  that  watch." 


86 

Then  silence  fell  between  them,  and  they  were  all 
sore  troubled;  for,  like  a  gleam  of  lightning  in  the 
brooding  cloud  of  sorrow,  was  the  danger  of  opposing 
the  desire  of  the  Sultan.  After  a  time  Abla  broke  the 
silence,  speaking  gently : 

"Thou,  O  Selim,  art  a  man !    Thou  wilt  find  a  way." 

"The  Village  of  the  Weavers  is  far,"  he  said  to 
Aletra.  "How  wilt  thou  fare  ?" 

Though  he  spoke  to  Aletra,  he  looked  at  Abla,  and 
the  look  of  a  man  was  in  his  eyes. 

"The  Sultan  hath  enriched  me,"  said  Aletra.  "And 
gold  buyeth  camels  and  food  and  shelter." 

"Nay,  Aletra ;  thou  shalt  wait  in  safety." 

"Thou  comprehendest  not — 

"Yea,  well  do  I  comprehend.  Harken,  the  seraglio 
knoweth  thee  as  Jeppa.  As  Jeppa  hast  thou  gone  hence 
and  returned.  Thou  art  Jeppa!  An  the  slaves  come 
on  the  morrow  for  word  of  Jeppa  a  hundred  tongues 
will  tell  them  she  hath  perished  of  the  plague,  for  she 
hath  been  taken  away  within  the  hour.  Bide  close;  let 
none  see  thee;  answer  not  those  who  beat  upon  the  door 
when  I  fare  forth." 

"And  what  preventeth  the  slaves  from  searching 
within  ?"  asked  Abla. 

"Death,"  said  Selim. 

"And  what  preventeth  death  from  finding  us  here 
also?" 

"Allah,"  he  replied  again. 

"Yea,  Allah  alone  can  help  us,"  responded  Aletra. 

"Mahmud,  the  fig  merchant,  hath  had  passports  for 
his  sisters  who  perished  as  did  Jeppa.  They  would  have 
journeyed  to  the  new  country.  These  papers  will  I  ask, 
and  thee,  O  Aletra,  will  I  send  to  the  master !" 


IN  THE  DESOLATE  DOVE-COTE    i          87 

And  when  Abla  had  listened  to  his  last  words,  she 
saw  the  wisdom  of  them  and  rose  lightly  from  the  rug 
and  began  dancing  about  the  court,  singing  the  joy  song 
of  the  Arab  women.  But  Aletra  stopped  her.  Yet, 
even  as  she  chided  her,  her  own  eyes  grew  large  with 
hope. 

"Thinkest  thou  they  watch  not  the  harbor  and  this 
house  and  the  bazaar?  O  Selim,  Babek  hath  eyes  in 
the  back  of  his  tarboosh  and  seeth  all  things." 

"Then  shall  he  see  what  he  shall  see,  for  I  will 
straightway  fare  into  the  desert,  taking  with  me  two 
women  with  double  veils  and  much  show  of  secrecy  1 
ISTazrullah,  my  kinsman's  partner,  hath  bidden  me  hence 
e'er  he  fled  Tunis." 

"Hath  Nazrullah  fled  ?"  asked  Aletra. 

"Yea;  many  of  his  household  perished,  and  he  hath 
sent  for  the  Sheik  Saoud,  to  hold  the  bazaar.  I  fear 
not." 

Then  he  added  thoughtfully: 

"They  bring  men  of  medicine,  who  wear  veils  like 
women,  and  prate  of  insects  so  fine  thou  mayst  not  see 
them  in  the  water  and  the  air  and  the  dust,  and  the 
Sultan  forbiddeth  it  not,  for  he  dreadeth  to  offend  the 
Roumi. 

"But  fools  are  they  all — fools!  So  many  days  as  is 
good  for  him  a  man  may  live — and  no  more.  And 
Allah  has  counted  them  and  bound  them  in  sheaves,  as 
wheat  is  bound  by  the  reaper  thousands  of  years  before 
he  is  born  into  the  world.  Knowing  this,  I  fear  not. 
Great  is  the  name  of  Allah !" 

"When  farest  thou  for  the  ship's  papers?"  asked 
Abla. 

"Even  now,"  answered  Selim. 


88  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"The  night  cometh  apace;  I  should  feel  greater 
strength  if  thou  bide  within,"  said  Aletra.  "Fare  forth 
in  the  dawning,  lest  those  who  should  see  thee  in  the 
night  should  question  thy  haste  and  follow  after." 

"Hast  supped?"  asked  Abla  gently. 

"Nay,  but  little  food  hath  passed  my  lips  since  Fri- 
day. There  is  milk  within  and  cakes  and  dates,"  he 
said  as  if  he  had  forgotten  to  offer  them.  "I  will  fetch 
them  and  thou  mayst  eat." 

"Nay,"  said  the  girl;  "sit  thou  beside  Aletra  as  be- 
fitteth  the  master's  kinsman,  and  I  will  serve  thee  both." 

So  Abla  moved  into  the  gray  shadows  in  the  room 
beyond  and  found  the  food  upon  a  long  table,  and  when 
she  had  placed  it  fitly,  she  returned  and  set  it  before 
them.  There  were  honey  cakes  and  figs  and  dates  and 
a  bowl  of  goat's  milk,  and  she  lit  a  wrought  lamp  and 
brewed  coffee;  and  the  odor  of  the  coffee  comforted 
Selim,  and  he  looked  upon  the  girl  with  great  gentle- 
ness as  she  passed  back  and  forth  in  the  soft  light. 
Aletra  would  not  partake  of  food. 

"Thou  canst  bide  in  the  master's  room,  thou  and 
Abla,"  he  said ;  "the  plague  hath  not  entered  it." 

At  his  words  Aletra  rose,  and,  bidding  Abla  tarry 
and  minister  to  Selim  and  refresh  herself,  she  went 
from  the  Salamlik.  On  the  threshold  she  paused. 

"On  the  morrow,"  said  Selim,  seeing  the  torture  of 
fear  upon  her  face — "on  the  morrow  shalt  thou  and 
Abla  take  ship.  Thou  wilt  be  a  solace  to  the  heart  of 
the  master." 

"I  am  loath  to  bring  heavy  tidings  unto  him,"  said 
Aletra. 

"Nor  needst  thou;  for  at  dawn,  when  Murad  abu 
Mahmud,  the  Syrian  fig  merchant,  began  his  journey 


IN  THE  DESOLATE  DOVE-COTE  89 

I  gave  him  word  of  all  that  had  befallen  the  house  of 
my  kinsman,  that  he  might  tell  it  unto  him.  He  goeth 
to  the  place  where  the  master  bideth — and  such  tidings 
come  better  from  the  mouth  of  a  friend  than  in  un- 
thinking script." 

"Allah  be  praised  that  my  tongue  bring  not  the  tid- 
ings !"  said  Aletra,  and  she  took  her  way  to  the  master's 
room. 

When  Aletra  had  made  fast  the  door  of  the  master's 
room,  she  threw  herself,  sobbing,  upon  the  great  Tuni- 
sian bed.  What  hath  Selim  said  concerning  Attar's 
safety  if  he  opposed  the  Sultan  ?  Fear,  doubt,  anguish, 
and  love  tore  at  her  heart  till  she  cried  out  in  her 
distress : 

"Allah,  O  Allah,  let  him  forswear  the  lands,  the  city, 
the  palaces !  And  Allah,  O  Allah,  the  wives — turn  his 
heart  toward  me  or  I  perish !" 

Then,  as  she  sobbed,  she  saw  a  white  burnoose  that 
Attar  often  wore  on  desert  journeys  or  in  the  cool  of 
autumn  evenings,  hanging  beside  the  bed.  She  rose  and 
covered  it  with  kisses  and  wound  it  about  her.  The 
indefinable  individual  odor  that  clung  to  it,  blending 
with  musk,  spices,  and  tambac,  comforted  her  as  a  living 
presence.  She  nestled  in  its  embrace,  caressed  the 
folds,  and,  brushing  her  soft  face  against  it,  she  spoke 
to  it  as  if  to  the  master. 

Abla  tarried  long,  for  Selim  would  not  suffer  her  to 
go.  As  she  tempted  him  with  the  food  she  spoke  softly 
and  as  if  naught  were  amiss. 

But  when  an  hour  had  passed  she  rose  to  go. 

"Wilt  thou  show  me  the  way  to  Aletra  ?"  she  said,  and 
he  showed  her. 


90  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"LaJatic  sidi,"  she  said  when  she  stood  before  the 
master's  door. 

"Lalatic  sidi"  returned  Selim;  but  the  boy  scarce 
knew  his  own  voice,  so  deep  and  rich  it  sounded  as  he 
said  the  Arabic  good  night. 

With  the  dawn  Selim  fared  forth  to  seek  the  pass- 
ports. He  had  great  hope,  for  never  had  the  govern- 
ment been  strict  in  these  matters. 

"An  all  is  well  I  return  before  the  noonday  call  to 
prayer,"  he  said  at  parting.  When  he  had  gone,  Aletra 
sighed : 

"Far  better  were  it  for  me  and  for  thee  that  we  fare 
into  the  desert,  and  I  pray  Allah  that  he  find  not  the 
ship's  papers.  I  am  sore  afraid  that  we  go  not  hence 
in  the  ship.  In  Sahara  one  hoik  is  as  like  to  another 
as  are  the  sands  under  the  feet,  and  many  are  the 
places  of  hiding." 

"Comfort  thy  heart,"  soothed  Abla,  "and  concern  not 
thyself  with  flight  till  the  return  of  thy  kinsman." 

Yet  was  Aletra's  heart  ever  tortured  with  fear  of  the 
undertaking.  When  the  muezzin  sounded  the  noonday 
prayer,  Selim  had  not  returned.  Abla  grew  anxious, 
fearful.  Aletra  was  silent. 

The  hours  came  and  went,  but  Selim  came  not.  The 
women  prayed.  The  sun  crept  in  from  the  west  through 
the  high,  flower-fringed  casement ;  still  Selim  came  not. 
They  crept  cautiously  about  the  Salamlik,  peering 
through  hidden  casements. 

Twice  they  heard  knockings  upon  the  door,  and  when 
those  who  had  beat  upon  the  door  sought  the  houses  on 
either  side,  and  were  told  that  the  plague  lay  heavy 
upon  the  house  of  Al  Hassen,  they  tarried  not,  but  fled 
speedily. 


IN  THE  DESOLATE  DOVE-COTE  91 

When  all  was  quiet,  Abla  crept  to  the  casement  and 
saw  a  great  figure  astride  a  white  stallion.  Beside  him 
as  he  fared  away  ran  one  of  the  seraglio  slaves.  Abla 
trembled,  but  Aletra  grew  calm  with  the  nearness  of 
danger  upon  them. 

Fearing  that  Babek  had  left  some  guard  below,  they 
dared  not  speak  lest  they  be  heard;  but  crouched  in 
breathless  silence  beneath  the  casements,  ever  hoping 
for  the  sound  of  Selim's  footsteps.  But  the  sun  left 
the  narrow  street  and  Selim  came  not.  The  shadow 
crept  slowly  upward  along  the  walls  of  the  mosque,  but 
he  came  not. 

The  sun  glinted  at  last  only  as  a  spark  of  white  flame 
upon  the  topmost  tiles  of  the  minaret,  yet  he  came  not. 
The  street  was  wrapped  in  shadows  and  the  mosque  was 
gray  when  the  evening  prayer  sounded,  and  they  prayed 
Allah  for  protection  against  the  unknown — the  terrible 
unknown — and  again  listened  and  waited.  And  still  he 
came  not. 

There  was  no  moon — a  bank  of  clouds  loomed  high 
toward  the  east  and  hid  the  early  stars — the  mosque 
grew  dim  and  faded  in  the  darkness,  and  still  they  were 
alone. 

As  the  nightfall  call  to  prayer  sounded,  they  pros- 
trated themselves,  and  when  the  solemn  "Allah  hu  AJc 
Bar!  Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!"  had  ceased  Aletra  called  softly 
into  the  darkness:  "Allah,  Allah,  Allah,  thou  who  art 
merciful  and  compassionate,  hide  the  wife  of  the  mas- 
ter !  Let  the  darkness  that  we  fear  be  our  safety,  and 
the  waiting  our  deliverance !"  Then  they  watched  again 
in  the  silence. 

Toward  midnight  the  moon  rose  and  touched  the 
rounded  dome  of  the  mosque.  Aletra,  extending  her 
arms,  prayed  silently  for  the  safety  of  the  master,  as 


92  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

ever  she  did  when  the  light  of  the  moon  first  fell  upon 
the  sacred  dome. 

Abla,  grown  weary  with  suspense  and  fear,   slept. 
Aletra  kept  her  vigil  alone. 


CHAPTEK  XIV 

IN  THE  WAKE  OF  THE  LAZAEINES 

IT  was  well  past  midnight  when  Aletra  and  Abla,  who 
were  still  crouching  beneath  the  casement,  heard  a 
faint  sound  in  the  lower  court  of  the  Salamlik,  as  of 
some  one  moving  cautiously.  Abla  crept  softly  to  the 
doorway  and,  looking  into  the  darkness,  saw  a  white 
figure  moving  stealthily. 

She  feared  to  stir  or  cry  out,  but  even  as  she  thought 
of  how  best  to  hide  her  mistress,  the  figure  crept  into 
the  band  of  moonlight  that  fell  through  an  upper  case- 
ment, and  she  saw  that  it  was  Selim. 
•  Twice  he  had  come  back,  he  told  them,  but  feared  to 
pass  the  Sultan's  slaves  that  waited  below.  Finally  he 
made  a  pretense  of  being  stricken  of  the  plague  himself, 
and  asked  them  to  help  him  to  the  shelter  of  the  court. 
This  they  did,  having  a  kindly  heart;  but  they  fled  the 
moment  Selim  had  entered,  so  that  the  house  was  no 
longer  watched. 

"And  the  ship's  papers  ?"  asked  Abla. 

"Allah  be  praised,  I  have  them,"  said  the  boy;  and 
he  gave  two  pieces  of  parchment  into  the  hands  of 
Aletra.  "And  now  we  must  need  hasten,  for  the  way 
is  clear.  Take  with  thee  what  thou  wilt  and  make 
ready." 

Aletra  wound  what  silks  and  garments  she  could 

93 


94  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

about  her,  gifts  from  the  Sultan.  Selim  would  not 
stop  for  sup  or  morsel,  but  hurried  the  two  women  into 
the  street  and  on  the  way  to  the  harbor.  And  when  the 
dawn  had  come,  they  were  hidden  not  far  from  the 
ship. 

"Well  were  it  to  delay  going  upon  the  ship  till  the 
full  time  of  sailing,"  said  Aletra;  for  a  great  fear  was 
upon  her. 

When  it  was  near  to  the  time  for  the  ship's  departure, 
a  desert  man  passed,  leading  a  camel  which  bore  an 
empty  bassourah.  Selim  spoke  to  him,  saying  that  the 
women  were  worn  with  a  long  journey  and  asking  that 
he  take  them  the  short  distance  to  the  ship  in  the 
bassourah.  The  man  agreed,  and  took  them  to  the 
harbor.  And  when  the  sun  had  risen,  they  stood  upon 
the  deck. 

Selim  had  come  quite  close  to  them  on  land,  before 
they  took  ship,  and  Abla  had  dropped  a  red  rose  from 
the  folds  of  her  haik — that  was  all.  Selim  saw  and 
waited,  that  he  might  lift  it  and  put  it  to  his  lips.  But 
Aletra,  having  seen,  put  forth  her  hand  and  touched 
Abla  in  reproof  as  if  the  girl  had  spoken. 

"Whose  the  eye,  O  my  heart,  that  will  look  for  a  rose 
to  blossom  at  the  hem  of  my  Jiaik?"  said  the  girl  close 
to  her  ear.  And  for  the  reason  that  hers  was  a  heart 
not  given  to  fear  she  sought  to  cheer  her  mistress  by 
further  words  of  courage. 

"Doth  not  the  ship  sail  within  the  hour?"  she  com- 
forted. 

"Hast  ever  seen  the  great  figure  yonder?"  asked 
Aletra,  not  heeding  the  girl's  words.  Abla  looked 
through  the  opening  in  her  veil  and  shrank  with  fright 


IN  THE  WAKE  OF  THE  LAZARIKES         95 

behind  one  of  the  other  women  that  stood  near.  Draw- 
ing Aletra  toward  her,  she  whispered : 

"It  is  even  Haraven,  an  eunuch  of  the  Sultan,  than 
whom  none  but  Babek  is  greater.  Would  to  Allah  I  had 
not  dropped  the  rose." 

Even  as  Abla  spoke  the  eunuch  lifted  his  hand,  and 
two  lesser  slaves  sprang  to  his  side.  For  the  space  of  a 
moment  they  stood  before  him,  listening  to  his  words. 
The  little  maid  trembled,  and  the  hand  with  which 
Aletra  sought  to  strengthen  her  was  as  if  the  snows  had 
touched  it. 

Then,  even  as  their  eyes  were  upon  the  great  eunuch, 
he  turned  and  left  the  ship.  The  slaves,  being  of  lesser 
stature,  were  lost  among  the  throng  of  the  departing 
and  the  kinsmen  of  the  departing.  There  was  much 
commotion  and  many  people  were  speaking  in  different 
tongues.  Some  fled  from  the  plague,  swearing  they, 
feared  it  not,  others  because  they  feared  their  mer- 
chandise would  cheapen  in  remaining  near  the  sickness. 
Many  spoke  in  great  excitement. 

Abla  drew  Aletra  into  a  place  of  security,  and  to- 
gether they  crouched  upon  some  rugs  and  woven  stuffs 
and  listened  and  took  courage  as  none  spoke  of  them  or 
of  any  search  of  the  seraglio  slaves. 

Chiefly  they  spoke  of  a  Syrian  girl  who  had  perished 
of  the  plague  in  the  harbor  the  day  before,  and  blas- 
phemed that  her  body  had  not  yet  been  removed.  The 
lepers,  who  alone  will  touch  those  stricken  of  the  plague, 
had  not  yet  come  for  her.  Abla  trembled  in  the  shadows 
as  she  listened,  for  she  had  the  added  fear  of  the  plague. 
Aletra  shuddered  in  her  compassion  for  the  stranger 
who  lay  upon  the  sands. 


96  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

The  moments  passed.  Those  who  went  not  with  the 
ship  sought  the  shore.  There  was  much  shouting  of 
salaams  and  bismillahs.  A  motion  of  life  ran  through 
the  ship — a  movement  such  as  stirs  the  horse  of  an  Arab 
ere  the  rider  giveth  the  word  to  depart. 

The  two  girls  were  well  hidden  when,  half  crouching 
like  Kabyle  dogs  in  the  wilderness,  the  two  slaves  of  the 
Sultan  burst  through  the  throng  and,  seeing  the  crouch-* 
ing  figures  in  the  shadow,  tore  the  veils  from  the  faces 
of  Aletra  and  Abla,  crying: 

"In  the  name  of  the  Sultan,  are  these  the  two  women 
who  fare  forth  as  the  daughters  of  Nazrullah,  the  rug 
merchant  ?" 

He  who  was  of  small  stature  and  the  older  spoke. 
As  he  pronounced  the  name  of  the  Sultan,  all  voices 
were  hushed,  and  when  he  cried  his  question  a  second 
time  the  master  of  the  ship  looked  upon  the  two  women 
and  commanded  them  to  show  the  paper  setting  forth 
their  name  and  country. 

Aletra  obeyed,  and  the  slaves  laid  hold  upon  them 
and  bore  them  to  the  edge  of  the  ship  amid  the  clamor 
of  the  throng. 

"Two  ladies  from  the  royal  harem !"  passed  from  lip 
to  lip. 

"Two  of  the  Sultan's  wives  escaped !" 

Men  spoke  without  concealment  as  the  two  were 
borne  along.  One  standing  close  to  Aletra  said: 

"]STo  wall  that  hath  yet  been  made  is  strong  enough 
to  preserve  the  virtue  of  a  woman." 

"The  redder  the  lips  the  greater  the  conceit  they 
cover,"  said  another. 

And  at  the  very  edge  of  the  ship  one,  a  Koumi,  a 
stranger,  said:  "What  punishment  will  they  receive, 
these  fleeing  wives  ?" 


97 

And  as  the  slave  grasped  her  garments  roughly  she 
heard  a  Moslem  answer:  "Death." 

His  voice  was  compassionate,  and  he  shook  his  head. 

"They  are  both  flowers  of  paradise,"  said  an  Arab, 
looking  upon  their  unveiled  faces.  "The  little  one  a 
cassia  bud,  the  other  one  a  flower  of  the  snows.  She 
need  not  fear  being  stricken  unto  death  by  the  royal 
disfavor.  But  once  in  a  lifetime  doth  a  man  gaze  upon 
such  beauty.  White  as  the  face  of  the  angel  of  grief  is 
she,  yet  trembling  not  nor  weeping." 

Then,  coming  closer,  he  said,  almost  at  Aletra's  ear: 

"An  thou  tellest  the  commander  of  the  faithful  thou 
hast  fled  for  that  he  hath  not  loved  thee  enough,  thou 
wilt  be  forgiven;  and  if  thou  art,  remember  the  Arab, 
David  al  Kebar." 

And  in  the  moment  they  stood  waiting  for  the  ship 
to  make  fast  again,  that  they  might  be  put  ashore,  she 
turned  her  great  eyes  full  upon  the  Arab  who  had 
spoken,  and  he  sprang  aside  as  if  she  smote  him  between 
the  eyes ;  for  in  the  look  she  cast  upon  him  was  a  desola- 
tion that  spoke  with  a  greater  surety  than  her  lips  could 
have  spoken,  seeming  to  say :  "Peace ;  I  crave  not  life. 
I  am  greater  than  life,  greater  than  death." 

Abla  screamed  as  the  larger  slave  grasped  her  arm 
with  brutal  strength  and  hurried  her  on.  He  also  tore 
the  veil  from  her  weeping  face,  for  she  had  sought  to 
cover  it  again  and  hide  her  distress.  When  they  had 
reached  the  shore,  and  while  the  ship's  people  leaned 
from  the  decks  and  looked  upon  them  and  spoke  concern- 
ing their  beauty  openly,  as  if  they  were  women  of  the 
dancers,  Aletra  asked  the  older  slave  softly: 

"What  punishment  dost  think  will  be  meted  out  to 
him  who  unveils  the  faces  of  the  Sultan's  chosen  ones 
to  the  men  of  the  street  ?" 


98  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"I  had  not  thought — I  but  did  it  for  safety,"  an- 
swered the  slave,  drawing  the  veil  over  her  face  himself. 
"I  meant  not  to  cause  thee  shame."  He  trembled  as  he 
spoke.  Then,  as  she  did  not  speak  again,  he  asked,  still 
trembling : 

"An  I  serve  thee  from  hence  on  with  all  gentleness, 
wilt  thou,  O  lady,  remember  this  against  me?" 

"And  my  slave  girl  ?"  she  asked,  touching  Abla. 

"And  the  girl  also,"  he  answered  humbly. 

"Then  will  I  not  remember,"  she  said  kindly,  and 
with  her  own  hand  she  drew  the  veil  over  the  child's 
tortured  face.  Then,  being  anxious  to  glean  what  she 
might  from  the  affrighted  slave,  she  questioned  him 
concerning  Babek's  plans,  and  he  made  answer: 

"Babek  knoweth  naught  of  this.  He  believeth  thou 
didst  perish  of  the  plague.  It  is  the  craft  of  Haraven 
hath  found  thee.  He  is  second  and  craveth  the  honor  of 
being  first  eunuch  of  the  harem,  which  station  Babek 
now  holdeth. 

"This  hath  he  told  even  unto  me  and  my  brother  who 
guardeth  thy  girl,  and  he  hath  promised  us  much  gold. 
I  have  not  closed  mine  eyes  since  thou  didst  leave  the 
seraglio ;  ever  was  I  near  thee,  for  none  others  would  he 
trust  than  my  brother  and  me,  who  are  born  of  the  same 
mother." 

"And  if  thou  hadst  failed  ?"  asked  Aletra. 

"Then  was  Babek  or  the  Sultan  to  know  naught  of 
this.  And  further,  O  lady,  I  will  tell  thee — an  thou 
boldest  thy  silence  concerning  thy  desire  to  flee  ne'er 
will  it  reach  the  ear  of  the  Sultan.  Haraven  hath  told 
me  to  give  thee  this  word.  He  will  tell  the  Sultan  that 
he  found  thee  visiting  a  kinsman's  harem  and  waiting 
for  his  summons  to  return  to  the  seraglio." 


99 

"How  great  will  be  thy  reward  ?"  asked  Aletra,  think- 
ing of  the  sapphire  hidden  in  her  bosom,  yet  fearing  to 
offer  it  for  ransom  lest  he  tear  it  from  her  and  never- 
theless deliver  her  to  the  harem.  But  ere  he  could 
answer,  the  throng  amid  which  they  moved  bore  back 
upon  them  in  sudden  fear.  The  slave  held  fast  to  her 
hoik,  but  a  cry  arose — the  dreaded  cry : 

"The  lepers,  the  lepers,  the  Lazarines." 

It  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

"They  carry  those  who  perished  of  the  plague!" 

Those  that  were  before  them  rushed  against  the  slave 
that  held  Aletra  and  he  had  almost  fallen.  In  that 
moment  his  hold  upon  the  haik  was  loosened,  and  Abla, 
who  had  ever  watched  the  hand  that  held  her  mistress, 
pressed  before  Aletra  and  into  her  place,  so  that  when 
the  slave  grasped  the  haik  again  quickly,  it  was  the  hoik 
of  Abla  that  he  held. 

Then,  pressing  Aletra's  hand  on  the  other  side,  she 
breathed  softly: 

"An  thou  walkest  in  the  footsteps  of  the  lepers  with 
those  that  mourn,  thou  mayest  deliver  thyself." 

Many  women,  Tzmfc-wrapped  and  veiled,  pressed 
against  them  on  either  side  in  their  sudden  fear  of  the 
lepers  and  the  plague,  and  as  Aletra  drew  back  another 
quickly  took  her  place  beside  Abla,  and  she  made  her 
way  toward  the  side  whence  came  the  procession. 

And  when  Aletra  had  come  to  the  edge  of  the  throng 
she  went  forth  with  the  mourners,  fearlessly  walking 
with  them,  even  in  the  footsteps  of  the  lepers. 


CHAPTEK  XV 

THE  KETUBN  OF  ATTAB 

IT  was  dawn  on  the  Mediterranean — timid,  gray  dawn, 
before  the  red  silk  disk  of  the  sun  had  stained  the  hein 
of  the  sea. 

Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen,  who  had  paced  the  deck 
throughout  the  watches  of  the  night,  now  stood  motion- 
less, looking  toward  the  south,  where,  wrapped  in  a 
mantle  of  sea-mist,  lay  Tunis,  the  mecca  or  the  grave 
of  his  desires. 

A  white  wool  burnoose  fell  about  his  massive  shoul- 
ders and  partly  hid  his  face,  but  did  not  fully  conceal 
the  golden  beard  and  splendid  brow.  His  eyes  were 
trying  to  pierce  the  veil  that  lay  between  him  and  the 
mosques  and  minarets  of  the  southern  shore:  the  veil 
of  the  morning. 

Even  since  Mahmud,  the  fig  merchant,  had  met  him 
in  the  new  country  and  given  him  Selim's  message  con- 
cerning that  which  had  befallen  his  harem,  he  had  longed 
with  all  the  strength  of  his  heart  for  a  sight  of  Tunis. 

They  were  anguished  days  for  him,  those  first  days 
after  he  had  listened  to  the  words  of  Mahmud.  The 
knowledge  that  Aletra  was  left  to  him  brought  him  no 
solace,  for  Selim  gave  Mahmud  no  word  of  Aletra  faring 
to  the  seraglio,  lest  it  overburden  his  kinsman  with 

100 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAR  101 

grief,  but  bade  him  tell  that  his  beautiful  wife  had  not 
been  stricken. 

As  a  man  who  has  been  told  that  his  date-palms  lie 
buried  under  the  ashes  of  ^Etna  doth  not  rejoice  that 
his  far  olive  groves  are  spared,  but  wildly  bewails  his 
loss,  even  so  mourned  he  for  those  that  had  been  taken, 
nor  praised  Allah  nor  thought  of  her  who  had  been  left 
to  him. 

Sleep  came  not  to  him,  and  when  he  rose  and  walked 
into  the  night,  repeating  the  prayers  of  the  Koran  for 
comfort,  it  was  ever  memory  and  not  the  thought  of 
Allah  that  fared  beside  him. 

Without  delay  he  began  his  journey  to  Africa.  But 
it  was  only  when  he  had  left  Marseilles,  and  was  on  the 
Mediterranean,  that  he  felt  the  full  weight  of  his  loss. 
The  last  night  out  he  spent  on  deck,  his  heart  torn  with 
unrest.  At  midnight  he  had  gone  below  and  clad  him- 
self in  the  raiment  of  his  own  country.  There  was  a 
vague  solace  in  the  mere  touch  of  native  garments  that 
comforted  him. 

Now,  as  he  stood  in  the  pale,  windless  morning,  gaz- 
ing toward  the  south,  a  faint  glow,  like  the  translucent 
sheen  of  a  fire-opal,  tinged  the  waters  of  the  east.  There 
was  a  slight  ripple  of  wind  that,  for  a  moment,  made 
the  glassy  surface  dapple,  softly  pink,  like  a  magic  tes- 
selation  of  mother  of  pearl.  Another  moment,  as  the 
wind  blew  straight  toward  the  ship,  the  pink  of  the 
rippling  water  deepened  to  rose — to  red — to  crimson — 
to  flame — to  gold :  the  sun  had  risen. 

As  the  first  slant  spears  of  burnished  light  fell  upon 
the  deck,  Attar  prostrated  himself.  It  was  the  hour  of 
the  prayer  of  dawn. 

When  he  had  prayed,  he  turned  once  more  to  the 


102  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

south  and  again  his  eyes  sought  for  a  glimpse  of  the 
outlines  of  Tunisia. 

He  did  not  break  his  fast;  but  hours  later,  as  the 
harbor  came  dimly  into  view,  a  new  strength  filled  him 
as  if  he  had  eaten  of  fine  meats  and  sweetened  bread. 

When  at  last  the  ship  came  into  the  bay,  he  was  con- 
sumed with  impatience. 

As  it  neared  the  landing,  the  midday  prayer  sounded 
from  the  countless  soaring  minarets  of  the  city,  and  in 
that  moment,  while  he  listened,  the  thongs  that  fettered 
his  soul  fell  from  him  and  left  him  free  to  spend  his 
sorrow,  and,  hiding  his  face,  he  wept.  Thus  his  grief 
was  eased,  as  the  flowing  of  blood  eases  a  wound  and 
prepares  it  for  the  marvel  of  healing. 

After  landing,  Attar  made  his  way  with  all  speed 
toward  the  bazaar.  As  there  was  a  change  in  his  home- 
coming, so  was  there  a  change  in  Tunis.  The  life  and 
color  that  were  wont  to  flood  the  streets  of  the  city 
were  missing.  The  throngs  of  Rounds  that  at  other 
times  brought  wealth  to  the  souks  were  missing  also,  and 
those  who  went  abroad  seemed  to  be  keeping  pace  with 
the  invisible  sorrow  that  walked  beside  them. 

The  plague  had  spent  itself,  but  desolation  followed 
in  its  wake,  and  put  its  stamp  upon  the  faces  of  those 
that  were  spared. 

As  he  made  his  way  along  the  narrow  arched  street 
beneath  the  overhanging  roofs,  he  came  upon  many  who 
gave  him  greeting.  But  after  the  first  words  of  wel- 
come each  in  turn  shook  his  head,  lifted  his  hands,  or 
besought  the  compassion  of  Allah;  for  all  Tunis  was 
like  unto  a  man  who  had  had  a  grave  sickness  and  whose 
strength  has  not  yet  returned. 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAR  103 

Owing  to  the  ethics  of  the  Orient,  no  one  condoled 
with  him  on  the  death  of  his  wives,  for  the  faintest 
interest  concerning  another  man's  wives  shows  great 
lack  of  breeding.  Probably  few  knew  of  his  loss.  Gos- 
sip had  been  greatly  restricted  during  the  plague,  on  ac- 
count of  the  closing  of  the  baths,  and  if  any  man  knew 
he  would  never  dream  of  broaching  the  subject,  for  the 
greatest  tribute  to  a  virtuous  woman  of  the  East  is  to 
say:  "No  man  but  her  husband  hath  looked  upon  her 
since  womanhood  in  life  or  in  death,  or  spoken  of  her." 

When  he  came  to  the  great  mosque,  though  in  anxiety 
to  reach  the  bazaar,  he  stopped  long  enough  to  repeat 
the  bismillah.  But  he  had  no  room  in  his  consciousness 
for  the  beauty  of  the  interior,  the  Moorish  tiles,  the 
beautiful  minibar,  with  its  fretwork  of  marble  lace,  the 
wonderful  glass  and  tiles,  the  rare  marbles  with  their 
hint  of  captured  sunshine.  No  detail  of  the  sacred 
place  assailed  his  consciousness;  but  the  merging  of  all 
the  colors,  the  form,  the  fabrics,  fell  upon  the  man's 
anxious  unrest  like  a  deep  chord  of  harmony,  and  every 
moment,  whether  he  stepped  upon  the  soft  matting  or 
pressed  his  forehead  to  the  ground  in  humility,  he 
gained  in  power  and  that  strange  spiritual  pride  pe- 
culiar to  the  sons  of  Islam.  The  mysterious  grandeur 
that  distinguishes  the  true  believer  invests  the  meanest 
beggar  of  the  East  with  the  bearing  of  a  raja.  For  the 
discomfort,  trials,  sorrow,  or  whatever  may  harrow  the 
kingdom  of  the  hour,  is  completely  dwarfed  by  the  con- 
templation of  the  ages  that  have  been  theirs  in  the  past, 
and  the  ages  that  they  will  inherit  in  the  future  in  the 
heart  of  Allah. 

As  he  left  the  mosque,  he  came  upk>n  an  old  kinsman, 


104  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

the  Sheik  Alewa  Saoud,  who,  when  his  amazement  was 
mastered,  fell  upon  his  breast  and  embraced  him,  cry- 
ing: 

"Of  a  truth  Allah  hath  sent  thee.  Much  hath  hap- 
pened in  Tunis  since  thou  hast  gone  hence,  and  I  have 
craved  word  with  thee." 

"Yea,  O  my  father,  the  hand  of  fate  hath  fallen 
heavy  upon  my  house,  and  its  affliction  hath  brought  me 
hither." 

At  this  the  sheik  embraced  him  again  and  spoke  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  woman,  saying: 

"I  sorrow  with  thee  as  if  it  were  mine  own  sorrow, 
for  hast  thou  not  lost  a  son  ?  And  art  thou  not  my  kins- 
man?" 

When  Attar  heard  this,  he  grasped  the  other's  gar- 
ments and  cried  out  in  his  agony: 

"Hamed;  tell  me  not  that  Hamed  also  hath  per- 
ished?" 

"Nay,  not  Hamed,  but  an  infant.  Hamed  is  in  safety 
far  from  Tunis,  in  the  Village  of  the  Weavers,  whither 
he  journeyed  with  thy  kinsman  Yoseph." 

"Allah  be  praised,"  said  the  younger  man.  "Yet  is 
mine  affliction  deep." 

The  sheik  being  of  his  father's  house  and  a  man  of 
wisdom,  he  told  him  concerning  the  loss  of  his  wives. 
Had  the  old  man  not  been  such  he  would  not  have  spoken 
of  the  women  of  his  harem,  but  he  said  naught  of  Aletra. 

When  he  had  finished,  the  sheik  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  and  said : 

"Thou  hast  none  to  give  thee  welcome  in  thine  own 
house.  Fare  with  me  unto  mine,  for  my  flesh  yearneth 
toward  thee  as  to  a  son." 

But  Attar  told  him  of  Aletra,  who  had  left  the 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAR  105 

stricken  house,  and  who  was  in  safety  in  the  harem  of 
his  partner,  JSTazrullah. 

"Nazrullah !"  said  the  old  man.  "Nazrullah  hath 
gone  unto  his  date  oasis,  he  and  his  household." 

"Wherefore  hath  he  gone?  Was  his  house  also 
stricken?"  asked  Attar. 

"Yea,  he  hath  lost  two  children."  This  meant  boys, 
for  they  only  are  called  children. 

He  also  told  him  that  Nazrullah  himself  was  stricken 
almost  unto  death  and  was  carried  away  on  the  backs  of 
his  slaves. 

"A-a-aa,"  said  Attar,  "who,  then,  holdeth  the 
bazaar  ?" 

"When  first  his  house  was  stricken,  he  sent  for  me, 
knowing  that  I  had  no  fear  of  the  plague,  and  I  have 
done  as  I  would  with  mine  own  holdings.  But  in  his 
haste  he  hath  not  given  me  directions  concerning  thine 
abode  in  the  new  country,  and  though  I  have  searched 
the  strongbox,  I  could  find  none,  for  Nazrullah  bade  me 
write  and  give  thee  tidings  that  thou  shouldst  blame 
him  not  for  leaving  Tunis." 

"Hath  he  left  word  concerning  Aletra  with  thee? 
Hath  he  perchance  taken  her  hence  with  his  women?" 

"Naught  hath  he  said  concerning  thy  household  save 
of  Selim,  thy  young  kinsman.  The  boy,  he  said,  would 
journey  into  the  desert  to  meet  the  caravan  that  brought 
him  merchandise,  that  it  come  not  into  the  city  of  the 
plague  and  be  held  for  months."  Then,  seeing  the 
trouble  in  the  other's  face,  he  added : 

"But  the  plague  is  over,  0  my  son.  It  may  be  that  a 
welcome  doth  await  thee  in  thine  own  house;  that  thy 
beautiful  woman  hath  returned  thereto,  and  even  now 
tendeth  the  flowers  in  the  casements." 


106  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"She  should  not  have  left  the  others,"  said  Attar,  and 
hearing  the  harshness  of  his  tone  the  sheik  said : 

"Be  not  so  swift  to  censure,  O  my  son!  Knowest 
thou  this  of  a  truth  that  she  hath  forsaken  the  others  ?" 

Then  Attar  gave  him  Selim's  letter,  which  set  forth 
the  names  of  those  who  had  perished  and  much  concern- 
ing his  merchandise,  and  the  words: 

Aletra  hath  gone  from  thine  house  when  the  first  one  was 
stricken,  and  when  she  returneth  I  will  send  her  to  the  harem 
of  Nazrullah  to  await  thee.  Jeppa  hath  bidden  me  tell  none 
of  Aletra's  departure,  but  to  give  thee  word  that  she  was  in 
safety  and  to  blame  her  not. 

When  he  had  finished  reading,  he  sought  to  cheer 
the  younger  man,  saying : 

"I  will  go  with  thee  to  thy  house.  Perchance  thy 
beautiful  woman  awaiteth  thee  there,  having  returned 
when  the  plague  was  over." 

Attar  did  not  answer,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 
But  when  they  were  come  before  his  house,  and  he  saw 
that  the  flowers  still  bloomed  in  the  deep  casements, 
that  they  were  bright  against  the  white  of  the  wall,  a 
sudden,  fierce,  swift,  unbidden,  almost  unwelcome  joy 
tore  at  his  heart,  for  he  thought  of  the  words  of  the 
sheik. 

And,  even  as  his  kinsman  knocked  upon  the  door,  he 
looked  upward  toward  the  window  and  called  softly, 
"Aletra,  Aletra!"  thinking  that  perhaps  she  would 
come  to  the  window  and  look  through  the  veil  of  flowers 
and  behold  him. 

When  no  one  came,  the  old  man  knocked  again.  The 
sound  echoed  faintly  through  the  stone  corridor  beyond, 
but  no  pattering  footsteps  hastened,  no  willing  hands 
unbarred.  Then  a  great  fear  fell  upon  the  heart  of  the 


THE  EETUEN  OF  ATTAE  107 

master,  and  his  hand  trembled  as  he  gave  Saoud  the 
key,  which  he  carried  ever  with  him.  His  kinsman 
unlocked  the  door.  As  it  swung  back,  the  chill  air 
struck  him  with  a  sense  of  the  abandoned  desolation  of 
the  place. 

Solemnly,  slowly,  as  if  in  a  mosque  or  in  the  presence 
of  the  dead,  they  entered.  In  the  salamlik,  the  court 
garden,  the  little  court,  the  harem,  everywhere,  the 
quiet  was  unbroken. 

H©  left  the  sheik  in  the  salamlik  and  passed  through 
the  bab-el-harem  (door  of  the  harem)  alone,  calling 
softly,  but  only  the  echo  of  his  own  voice  came  back 
to  him  for  answer.  He  went  first  to  Jeppa's  room. 
Here  was  a  strange  kind  of  disorder,  unusual  in  any- 
thing belonging  to  Jeppa.  In  Zulaykha's  room  were  a 
small  tub  of  water  and  some  of  Hafiz's  little  garments, 
and  many  other  things  here  and  there  and  medicines  in 
boxes  and  bottles. 

Aletra's  room  was  in  perfect  order  but  for  a  white 
veil  that  lay  half  on  the  floor  and  half  on  the  bed.  The 
bed  itself  was  covered  wtih  pieces  of  unfinished  em- 
broidery in  different  stages  of  completion.  There  was 
an  altar-cloth  that  Aletra  had  wrought;  it  was  nearly 
finished,  and  a  gauzy  silver  veil  that  Jeppa  had  written 
of  when  she  began  to  embroider  it. 

The  silence  in  this  room,  this  paradise,  which  his 
mind  had  ever  pictured  as  the  Mecca  of  his  love,  tor- 
tured him,  and,  fearing  to  lose  his  reason  in  its  per- 
fumed desolation,  he  fled  back  into  the  court. 

But  when  he  found  that  none  was  there,  he  returned 
to  the  Salamlik,  and  when  the  sheik  beheld  him,  his  face 
was  as  the  face  of  one  stricken.  Saoud  sought  to  com- 
fort him  with  words  and  embraces,  but  for  answer  the 


108  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

other  asked  that  he  consider  him  not  ungrateful,  but 
that  he  craved  an  hour  alone  with  his  dead.  His  kins- 
man was  loath  to  leave  him,  and  spoke  again  of  Aletra : 

"Thy  heart  is  sick,  O  my  son ;  yet  such  is  the  manner 
of  man  when  he  heareth  that  his  date-palms  are  buried 
beneath  the  ashes  of  ^Etna  that  he  doth  not  rejoice  be- 
cause his  far  olive-groves  are  spared.  Yet  in  time  he 
seeketh  the  shade  of  the  olive-grove  and  delighteth  in 
its  fruit." 

But  Attar  answered  not,  and  turned  again  toward 
the  bab-el-harem. 

"Go  then,  O  Attar!"  said  the  sheik.  "It  is  well 
betimes  to  feed  thy  sorrow  with  the  sweet  morsels  of 
grief  that  it  may  be  surfeited  the  quicker.  Such  is  the 
medicine  of  nature.  And  meanwhile  I  will  go  forth 
and  question  the  master  of  the  house  to  the  right  of 
thee  and  to  the  left  and  the  old  women,  and  I  will  send 
one  to  the  baths  which  have  but  just  been  opened 
again.  I  will  glean  what  I  may  of  gossip  concerning 
thy  wife." 

And  Attar  listened;  but,  shaking  his  head,  passed 
again  through  the  bab-el-harem.  He  did  not  enter  Al- 
etra's  room  again,  nor  Zulaykha's,  but  went  as  ever 
when  his  heart  was  sore,  to  Jeppa's  part  of  the  harem. 

Ever  since  Mahmud,  the  fig  merchant,  had  met  him 
in  the  new  country  and  given  him  Selim's  message  con- 
cerning that  which  had  befallen  his  harem,  he  had 
mourned  for  Jeppa.  In  the  night  that  followed  sleep 
came  not  to  him,  and  even  when  he  rose  and  walked  into 
the  night,  repeating  the  prayers  of  the  Koran  for 
comfort,  it  was  yet  memory  and  not  the  thought  of 
Allah  that  fared  beside  him. 

Of  Aletra  he  thought  not  at  all;  it  was  of  Jeppa  he 


THE  KETUKN  OF  ATTAK  109 

thought.  It  was  the  child  face  of  Jeppa  before  it  wore 
the  inscrutable  veil  of  womanhood  that  was  ever  be- 
fore him — the  soft  music  of  Jeppa' s  words  that  mocked 
his  ears  with  fantom  whispers. 

As  he  passed  Zulaykha's  door,  he  upbraided  himself 
that  he  did  not  think  enough  of  her — Zulaykha — with 
her  docile  eyes,  her  plump  neck,  her  full  lips.  She  had 
loved  him  and  borne  him  a  son,  yet  it  was  of  Jeppa — 
"Jeppa,  the  perfect  one,"  as  he  called  her  in  secret — 
that  he  thought. 

Now,  as  he  entered  her  room,  she  came  before  his 
vision  as  she  had  looked  when  his  mother  brought  her 
home,  a  frightened  child,  scarce  more  mature  than  waa 
Zema  when  he  left  the  East.  He  thought  of  her  small 
stature,  not  reaching  near  his  shoulder ;  of  her  soft  flesh, 
as  he  had  shyly  taken  her  in  his  arms  when  they  had 
been  left  alone  for  a  moment,  before  his  mother  had 
taken  her  away  to  put  her  to  bed  with  the  other 
children;  for  the  little  wedding  had  been  more  in  the 
nature  of  an  adoption  of  a  daughter-in-law  into  the 
family  than  a  real  marriage — the  mother  thinking  that 
she  could  not  begin  too  soon  to  train  a  wife  for  her 
son. 

He  thought  of  her  frightened  look,  of  her  gratitude 
when  she  knew  he  was  pleased  with  her.  He  remem- 
bered their  first  years  together.  Hbw,  when  his  mother 
admonished  her,  she  would  fly  to  him  for  comfort,  and, 
nestling  in  his  arms,  would  relieve  her  little  heart  with 
the  words: 

"Thou  never  reproachest  me,  it  mattereth  not  how 
great  the  cause;"  and  of  how  he  would  reassure  her, 
delighting  in  the  softness  of  her  touch  as  she  clung  to 
him  or  passed  her  little  hands  lovingly  over  his  face. 


110  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Once — how  well  he  remembered  it! — about  a  year 
after  his  mother  had  surprised  him  with  her  as  a 
"wife,"  she  had  had  a  particularly  trying  day  with  her 
embroidery,  and  the  mother  had  been  severe. 

The  memory  of  that  day  was  as  clear  to  him  as  if  it 
had  been  yesterday.  He  had  just  returned  from  meet- 
ing the  caravan  of  his  kinsman  Yoseph,  and  had  not 
seen  Jeppa  for  three  days.  When  they  were  alone  she 
ran  to  him,  like  the  child  she  was,  and  passed  her 
little  fingers  over  his  hands,  upon  his  arms  and  his 
face  and  his  neck,  her  touch  like  the  tender  petals  of 
white  jasmines. 

"The  day,"  she  said,  "hath  many  hours  when  thou 
art  gone,  and  the  stitches  go  not  where  I  place  the  needle, 
and  thy  excellent  mother  hath  cause  to  wax  wroth  with 
me  many  times.  And,  though  I  lock  mine  eyes  close, 
the  tears  fall  upon  the  silken  mesh  I  'broider,  and  I  ask 
Allah  to  give  me  greater  cunning  with  my  work.  But 
when  thou  art  come" — here  she  paused  and  smiled,  ex- 
pressive of  the  great  change — "the  silk  flieth  through 
the  eye  of  the  needle,  the  needle  flieth  along  the  mesh, 
and  the  flower  bloometh  upon  it  as  if  the  angels  had 
wrought  it  and  not  I." 

As  she  spoke,  he  held  her  close,  closer  than  he  had 
ever  dared  crush  the  soft  little  body  before,  and  she  had 
sighed  with  the  delight  of  a  child.  She  had  lifted  her 
little  hands  and  felt  his  forehead,  his  cheeks,  his  lips, 
over  again. 

"I  should  see  thee,  even  if  I  were  blind,"  she  cooed, 
"by  thy  flesh — it  feeleth  so  strong."  As  she  spoke,  her 
breath  touched  his  face — a  strange,  delightful,  disturb- 
ing sense  of  pleasure  came  over  him. 

"And  why  should  not  my  flesh  seem  strong,  am  I 
not  a  man  ?•"  he  asked,  and  she  had  said : 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAR  111 

"Nay,  thou  art  not,"  in  an  affrighted  whisper,  and 
he  had  answered,  holding  her  closer  still:  "Of  a  cer- 
tainty I  am,  and  thou,  soft,  little  white  flower  of  para- 
dise, art — a  woman."  And  he  held  her  from  him  and 
looked  upon  the  miracle  his  man-grown  fancy  had  found 
within  the  hour. 

Slowly  he  had  bent  his  head  to  meet  her  waiting  lips. 
It  was  as  if  children  had  carelessly  lifted  a  precious 
chalice,  filled  with  the  wine  of  ages,  and,  without  know- 
ing its  meaning  or  worth,  drained  it  as  they  would  a 
cup  of  milk. 

Yet  that  moment  of  white  innocence  and  the  memory 
of  her  childish  lips  were  with  him,  like  a  purifying 
flame.  And  he  could  not  realize  that  all  this  clinging 
softness  and  gentleness  were  gone;  that  his  flower  of 
yesterday  had  shed  its  milk-white  petals;  that  never 
again  would  its  perfume  mingle  with  his  breath. 

Then  followed  remorse — remorse  for  his  welcome  of 
Zulaykha.  True,  Jeppa  was  glad  when  she  came,  for 
had  she  not  said  so  ?  And  then  there  was  Aletra !  He 
reproached  himself  for  that  last  night  in  the  harem, 
when  with  Jeppa  beside  him,  he  had  thbught  and 
dreamed  hours  away  with  the  vision  of  Aletra  ever  be- 
fore him. 

Did  she  know  it?  Jeppa,  the  faithful — Jeppa,  the 
perfect?  Yea — yea,  she  knew  it!  Or  why  in  the 
morning  had  she  sped  him  forth  to  find  the  other  ?  He 
groaned  in  spirit,  condemned  alike  by  his  conscience 
and  the  prophet;  his  soul  sickened  with  self-reproach. 
If  sorrow  shrives  the  soul,  the  purgatory  of  those  nights 
had  left  him  sinless. 

When  the  hour  was  fulfilled,  and  he  heard  the  sheik 
at  the  door,  he  left  the  harem ;  but  as  he  passed  Aletra' s 
door  on  the  way,  he  felt  a  quick  resentment  toward  her 


112  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

for  that  she  had  deserted  Jeppa.  But  when  he  had 
opened  and  beheld  the  sheik's  face,  a  sudden  fear  seized 
him  that  Aletra,  too,  had  perished. 

His  kinsman  did  not  speak  nor  look  into  his  eyes; 
but  set  food  before  him,  a  dish  of  cous-cous,  brought  to 
the  door  by  a  woman  who  knew  there  was  naught  in 
the  house  of  food ;  also  a  jug  of  mare's  milk.  Al  Hassen 
would  not  sup,  but  questioned  him  concerning  his  tid- 
ings; and  when  the  other  would  not  speak  he  burst 
forth  in  a  torrent  of  words: 

"Thou  canst  hold  thy  peace  an  thou  wilt,  O  my 
father;  but  I  see  in  thine  eyes  that  Allah  hath  taken 
even  her."  The  old  man  still  kept  silent.  Then,  be- 
thinking that  in  time  the  other  would  hear  the  gossip 
of  the  wells,  even  as  he  had  heard  it,  he  broke  the 
silence,  saying: 

"Nay,  O  my  son,  thy  beautiful  wife  perished  not!" 

"What  meanest  thou,  then  ?"  cried  Attar  as  he  read 
his  kinsman's  face,  and  he  grasped  him  with  such 
strength  that  the  other  cried  out:  "Peace,  peace,  I 
will  tell  thee!" 

And  he  told  of  what  was  spoken  at  the  great  well — 
that  one  of  his  wives  had  fared  forth  upon  a  camel  with 
silken  trappings,  and  that  he  would  see  her  no  more. 
But  the  words  had  not  left  the  old  man's  mouth  before 
Attar  cried  out  in  his  wrath: 

"Lies!  Lies!  Black  as  the  slime  of  the  wells  at 
which  they  were  made,"  and  his  face  was  terrible  to 
behold,  for  suddenly  the  blood  rushed  once  more  along 
his  veins  till  his  flesh  burned  with  the  fires  they  had 
kindled. 

The  man  of  age  and  wisdom  sought  not  to  stay  his 
wrath  for  a  time ;  but  when  he  saw  that  it  grew  in  place 


THE  KETUKN  OF  ATTAB  113 

of  lessening,  he  counseled  him  to  wait  without  blaming 
or  believing. 

"Let  us  move  wisely,  as  if  ordered  by  reason/'  he 
said.  "There  are  letters  at  the  bazaar.  These  have  I 
sent  for ;  they  should  be  here  presently.  In  them  mayst 
thou  find  word  that  will  comfort  thy  heart.  Selim, 
thy  nephew,  hath  gone  out  of  Tunis  ere  I  came.  ISTaz- 
rullah  bade  me  open  all  letters  till  he  should  send  for 
them,  or  return.  This  have  I  done.  But  those  that 
bore  thy  name  have  I  not  opened." 

"Hast  thou  had  word  from  Nazrullah  ?"  asked  the 
master. 

"Yea,  from  the  caravans." 

Though  no  letter  had  been  received,  word  had  come 
that  he  was  safe  in  one  of  the  small  oases.  In  mid- 
desert  one  caravan  passing  or  meeting  another  will 
pause,  and  in  the  space  of  an  hour,  with  all  the  un- 
hurried grace  of  a  friendly  conversation,  the  most  mo- 
mentous messages  will  be  sent  by  a  stranger  to  a 
stranger. 

Such  messages  will  pass  from  one  caravan  to  another 
until  they  reach  their  destination  in  their  original  con- 
struction, and  their  inviolate  transmission  constitutes  a 
part  of  the  desert  code  of  honor. 

In  such  manner  came  word  from  Nazrullah,  and 
was  received  as  unquestionably  the  truth. 

"And  from  Selim?" 

"Nay,  but  ISTazrullah  hath  told  me  the  boy  would  go 
forth  to  meet  the  caravan  with  merchandise.  Ramon, 
the  wizard,  who  hath  brought  fresh  serpents  but  yester- 
day, spoke  with  him  well  out  of  Tunis ;  therefore  is  he 
safe.  Thou  art  prospered  in  one  thing,  I  doubt  not, 
for  a  demand  hath  come  more  than  a  moon  past  that 


114  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

thou  send  rugs  and  silken  stuffs  for  the  consideration  of 
the  harem  ladies  at  the  seraglio,  and  a  letter  bearing 
the  royal  seal  hath  come  soon  thereafter.  Oft  was  I 
tempted  to  break  it,  but  it  bore  thy  name  and  I  would 
not 

"Hast  thou  searched  well  for  any  word  that  could 
have  been  left  for  thine  eye  alone?  Hast  thou  looked 
even  among  the  garments  of  thy  women  for  such  a 
script?" 

"Nay,"  said  Attar,  "my  grief  hath  overwhelmed  me." 

"Then,  O  my  son,  go  thou  unto  thy  harem  and  search, 
and  if  thou  wilt  I  will  go  to  thine  own  room.  It  may 
be  that  we  shall  find  some  message."  Attar  bowed  his 
head  and  led  the  way. 

"Thou  mayst  follow  even  here,"  he  said  at  the  bab-el- 
harem.  "Naught  is  there  but  desolation  within." 

They  spent  nearly  an  hour  searching  everywhere  in 
Jeppa's  and  Zulaykha's  part  of  the  harem,  but  without 
results.  Finding  nothing,  Attar  went  again  to  Aletra's 
room  and  lifted  the  embroideries,  one  by  one,  rever- 
ently, as  sacred  relics  left  by  vanished  hands. 

As  he  moved  about  and  bent  over,  he  saw  a  small 
paper,  half  hidden  by  the  massive  footboard  of  the 
Tunisian  bed.  It  was  Jeppa's  letter  to  Aletra,  sealed 
as  she  had  left  it,  for  Aletra  had  never  found  it  after 
she  returned  from  the  seraglio.  He  read : 

Peace  be  unto  thee,  O  Aletra!  May  Allah  give  thee  the 
great  blessing.  I  wait  not  that  I  may  tell  thee  with  my 
lips  of  all  that  hath  befallen  us  since  thou  hast  fared  forth, 
for  there  is  that  within  me  that  bids  me  write — that  bids  me 
speak  to  thee  to-night,  and  quickly — for  I  know  that  only  in 
paradise  shall  I  see  thee  again,  and  I  want  thee  to  know  the 
fullness  of  a  mother's  love  and  gratitude. 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAR  115 

By  thy  going  in  my  place  was  I  with  little  Zema  even  to 
the  end  of  her  frail  life.  Tell  thou  unto  the  master  when  he 
come — Zulaykha  calleth.  I  will  finish  when  I  have  minis- 
tered unto  her. 


There  was  nothing  more  beyond  the  interruption. 
Her  writing,  usually  so  delicately  perfect,  was  tremu- 
lous, and  as  Attar  read,  tears  dropped  upon  the  uneven 
scroll.  When  he  had  finished  he  put  it  to  his  lips  for  a 
long  moment. 

"Thine,  O  Jeppa,  hath  ever  been  the  hand  to  com- 
fort me — to  ease  my  sorrow;  ever  hath  wisdom  sat 
upon  thy  childish  brow;  ever  hast  thou  spoken  the 
word  of  peace  and  sought  to  fulfill  the  wishes  of  my 
heart,  and  it  is  still  thy  little  hand  that  showeth  the 
way — that  uncovereth  that  which  was  a  mystery." 

Holding  the  mute  missive  in  his  hand,  he  could 
almost  see  the  calm  face  of  Jeppa,  he  could  almost  hear 
her  low  voice  saying :  "It  was  Aletra  who  fared  to  the 
seraglio — Aletra,  and  not  thy  Jeppa.  Aletra  it  was 
that  hath  been  seen  faring  forth  on  the  camel  with 
silken  trappings;  but  she  hath  gone  by  my  wish,  not 
her  own,  and  the  plague  was  at  the  seraglio.  It  was 
not  delight  that  tempted  her." 

All  this  he  thought  in  the  short  moment  before  he 
sought  the  sheik. 

"This  explaineth  much,"  said  his  kinsman  after  read- 
ing, "and  also  have  I  seen  that  in  thine  own  part  of  the 
house  which  maketh  it  seem  that  one  other  than  thou 
hath  lain  there — a  woman." 

"JSTay,  sayest  thou?"  cried  Attar  in  amazement,  and 
he  passed  quickly  within.  To  him  also  it  was  plain 
that  the  room  had  been  occupied — and  by  a  woman. 


116  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

The  perfume  of  wistaria,  sweetly  vagrant,  spoke  of 
Aletra, 

His  own  white  gondoura  had  the  scent  mingled  with 
its  tambac  and  amber,  and  there  were  long  hairs — as 
long  as  his  arm — upon  the  white  surface.  The  gon- 
doura  had  been  used  by  Aletra!  When  he  realized 
this,  he  took  it  up  and  covered  it  with  a  passion  of  kisses. 

There  was  also  a  shawl  in  the  room,  a  shawl  of  great 
beauty,  worth  the  price  of  a  camel — dull  blue,  with 
copper  workings,  as  minute  as  weaving.  This  he  held 
aloft,  and  they  gazed  upon  it  in  wonder,  for  naught 
had  ever  come  into  his  house  of  such  worth. 

"She  hath  returned !"  he  cried  in  his  joy. 

"Yea,"  said  the  old  man,  then  added:  "Yet  is  she 
not  here." 

But  even  as  he  spoke  there  was  the  sound  of  some 
one  without,  and  he  left  Attar  and  went  to  the  door  and 
took  the  letters  from  the  messenger  who  had  been  sent 
for  them  to  the  bazaar,  and  he  carried  them  to  the 
master.  When  Attar  saw  that  there  were  many  he 
said  to  his  kinsman: 

"Open  thou,  also,  and  read;  for  I  have  no  secrets 
from  thee." 

The  old  man  lifted  the  letter  which  bore  the  royal 
seal,  but  the  seal  did  not  show,  for  he  had  placed  it 
downward  on  his  way,  doubting  not  since  he  had  read 
Jeppa's  script  that  this  letter  bore  evil  tidings  to  his 
kinsman. 

But  when  he  had  opened  the  letter  and  read  the  first 
words,  he  cried  out  in  amaze : 

"By  Allah,  this  is  for  thine  eye  alone.  No  longer 
needest  thou  doubt  where  bideth  thy  beautiful  woman." 

Attar  almost  tore  the  paper  from  his  hand,  and  to- 
gether they  read  the  Sultan's  scroll : 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAR  117 

ATTAR  ABU  HAMED  AL  HASSEN  : 

In  the  name  of  Allah,  the  merciful,  the  compassionate, 
greeting ! 

I  have  been  instructed  by  the  representative  of  Allah,  the 
Sultan,  who  hath  been  entrusted  with  the  leading  of  Islam, 
and  whose  judgment  and  will  are  unquestioned,  to  give  unto 
thee  the  good  tidings  that  thy  wife  Jeppa  hath  found  favor  in 
his  eyes. 

"Jeppa!  Jeppa!"  cried  Attar  in  amazement,  but 
the  other  was  consumed  with  wonder,  and  held  his  eyes 
upon  the  paper. 

"Read,"  he  said  with  impatience,  and  they  continued 
to  scan  the  page  together. 

Oft  hath  our  royal  master  honored  some  brave  man  with  a 
gift  of  bright-eyes  from  the  garden  of  his  own  harem;  but 
never  before  hath  he  sought  to  honor  any  son  of  Islam  by 
taking  a  flower  that  hath  shed  its  first  perfume  for  another 
man's  delight. 

Art  thou,  Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen,  overwhelmed  with 
this,  the  greatest  honor  that  hath  befallen  thy  house?  And 
art  thou  not  stricken  dumb  with  amazement  that  he  who 
holdeth  Islam  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  should  consider  the 
holy  right  of  one  of  his  subjects,  and  ask  for  that  which  he 
hath  the  power  to  take? 

Added  to  this  honor  he  doth  thee,  by  taking  a  wife  from 
thy  harem,  he  will  furthermore  recompense  thee  with  three 
bales  of  silken  stuffs,  three  prayer-rugs  from  Mecca — one  of 
which  hath  taken  a  whole  family  ten  good  years  to  weave,  and 
upon  which  three  Marabouts  hath  turned  their  faces  toward 
the  kaaba. 

Also  he  giveth  thee  three  horses — whose  heels  spurn  the 
highway,  scarce  touching  it — with  embroidered  saddles  and 
trappings,  and  three  burden-bearing  camels,  and  three  white 
camels  of  great  speed  with  silk-draped  bassourahs,  and  in 
two  of  these  wilt  thou  find  a  jasmine  flower  from  the  gardens 
of  the  inner  harem:  one  with  hair  of  gold  and  eyes  like  the 
sky,  the  other  with  the  darkness  of  the  tempest  in  her  hair. 


118  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Either  hath  a  rich  beauty  of  flesh  and  smoothness  and 
bloom  upon  the  skin,  for  have  they  not  eaten  of  the  perfumed 
sweets  of  the  seraglio  of  over  a  year? 

In  two  of  the  silken  bassourahs  shalt  thou  find  these  won- 
derful living  gifts,  and  the  third  shall  be  empty,  that  thou 
canst  withdraw  when  thou  are  wearied  with  visiting  in  the 
others,  and  meditate  upon  the  kindness  of  thy  royal  master's 
heart. 

"But,"  thou  askest,  "whither  go  I  on  a  desert  journey?" 
and  I  answer,  thou  hast  not  yet  heard  all,  for  it  is  the  pleasure 
of  the  Incomparable  One,  the  Sultan,  that  thou  be  set  in 
power  over  one  of  the  desert  cities,  that  thy  name  may  go 
down  the  road  of  generations  as  a  great  man,  honored  above 
all  others  by  the  leader  of  the  faithful. 

Well  favored  slaves,  also,  shall  fare  forth  with  thee,  and 
thy  wishes  shall  be  supplied  before  they  are  known  to  thine 
own  heart.  Furthermore,  thou  shalt  have  a  ring,  a  seal  of 
lote  blossoms,  and  whatever  favor  thou  cravest,  in  reason,  for 
the  good  of  thy  house,  shall  thou  be  given  as  long  as  thou 
livest. 

And  what  wilt  thou  do  to  show  thy  gratitude  for  such 
princely  favors?  Thou  wilt  write  in  the  space  below,  ten 
words,  and  the  words  shall  be :  Jeppa,  I  divorce  thee,  I  divorce 
thee,  I  divorce  thee !  and  thou  shalt  sign  thy  name.  As  thou 
writest,  speak,  also,  the  same  words  aloud.  Was  ever  so 
kingly  a  price  given  for  ten  little  words  ? 

Yet,  O  Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen,  would  I  give  thee 
counsel  to  use  all  haste  in  despatching  them  by  a  swift  and 
sure  messenger,  as  soon  as  the  ink  drieth,  lest  the  wind  blow 
out  of  another  part  of  the  heavens  and  turn  the  royal  mind 
to  other  pleasures. 

Such,  O  my  brother,  are  the  wishes  of  the  Sultan. 

May  Allah  keep  thee  humble  in  thy  prosperity. 

HAFIZ  ABOUL  AL  HARROUN, 
Royal  Scribe. 

"She  hath  gone  in  Jeppa' s  place,  taking  the  name  of 
Jeppa,"  said  the  sheik  abruptly  when  they  had  finished 
reading. 


THE  EETUEN  OF  ATTAE  119 

Then,  as  Attar  did  not  speak,  but  began  rereading 
certain  portions  of  the  letter  while  his  brows  were 
drawn  and  his  lips  set,  the  old  man  added: 

"Of  a  truth  those  words  were  written  in  a  royal 
hour.  He  offereth  thee  much." 

There  was  almost  a  question  in  the  last  words,  but 
Attar  heard  them  not,  and,  throwing  the  script  from 
him  and  flinging  his  burnoose  aside,  he  said  in  a 
strangled  voice  as  if  he  were  alone,  as  if  he  had  quite 
forgotten  the  sheik: 

"By  Allah "    Then  again:    "By  Allah " 

There  was  no  more.  The  words  were  like  a  cry  in 
the  extremity  of  being.  But  whether  it  was  fear  or 
grief  or  hate  his  kinsman  could  not  know.  His  face 
was  white ;  his  eyes,  deep  blue  in  his  pleasure,  were  now 
black  and  wore  that  veiled  look  peculiar  to  Orientals 
when  they  wish  to  conceal  the  quality  of  their  emotions. 

Among  the  peoples  of  the  East  a  man  may  call  his 
enemy  the  son  of  a  dog,  a  thief,  a  murderer,  curse  his 
flesh,  wish  him  to  be  eaten  by  jackals,  or  to  have  naught 
but  sand  with  which  to  quench  his  thirst,  and  they  may 
again  be  friends;  but  when  he  is  silent,  when  his  face 
shows  neither  rage  nor  hate,  when  his  eyes  are  veiled 
beyond  the  reading  of  any  emotion,  he  is  to  be  feared 
to  the  death. 

Therefore,  noting  his  silence,  and  seeing  the  cur- 
tained look  before  his  eyes,  the  sheik  said  no  word  for  a 
time  while  Attar  stood  like  a  statue  looking  into  space 
with  his  unseeing  and  unrevealing  eyes.  At  length 
Saoud  repeated,  with  the  same  rising  inflection  that 
had  the  quality  of  a  question:  "Hb  hath  offered  thee 
much  ?" 

Then,  as  if  he  had  not  spoken,  the  master  asked : 


120  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Wilt  thou,  O  my  father,  bear  my  answer  to  the 
seraglio  ?" 

"Yea,  of  a  certainty;  but  have  a  care,  and  remem- 
ber— she  is  but  a  woman." 

Again,  as  if  the  other  had  not  spoken,  Attar  said : 

"I  will  not  hold  thee  overlong." 

Drawing  forth  paper,  he  lifted  a  pen,  wrote  but  a 
few  words  then  folded  the  sheet,  and  would  have  sealed 
it  but  that  his  kinsman  stayed  his  hand,  saying: 

"Thou  art  young,  O  my  son,  and  thy  blood  is  the 
blood  of  youth.  What  hast  thou  written  to  thy  Sultan  ?" 

Attar  opened  the  letter  and  read : 

"Greetings  unto  thee,  O  mighty  Sultan: 

"Thy  letter  concerning  my  wife  hath  come  to  me,  and  here 
I  set  forth  my  answer :    Thou  art  too  poor  to  buy  her.    There- 
fore let  thy  slaves  put  her  before  the  great  gates  where  I 
will  wait  that  I  may  bear  her  to  my  house,  for  she  is  my  wife. 
"ATTAR  ABU  HAMED  AL  HASSEN." 

"Thou  art  the  son  of  my  brother,"  said  the  old  man 
slowly,  shaking  his  head  when  he  had  listened.  "Thy 
words  do  thy  heart  honor — yet  I  am  sore  troubled  con- 
cerning that  which  will  happen  when  they  meet  the 
Sultan's  eye.  Do  you  know  what  he  will  do  ?"  the  old 
man  asked  fearfully. 

"No." 

"Listen !" 

Attar  tried  to  speak,  but  the  sheik  stopped  him. 

"Peace,"  he  said;  "age  bringeth  wisdom.  Let  us 
move  with  reason,  and  consider  well.  That,"  he  con- 
tinued, pointing  to  the  Sultan's  letter  which  lay  upon 
the  rug,  "hath  been  sent  more  than  a  moon  past.  It 


THE  RETURN  OF  ATTAE  121 

was  written  when  the  plague  lay  heavy  upon  Tunis — 
when  even  the  royal  heart  held  fear. 

"Therefore,  thinking  of  the  wrath  of  Allah,  he  that 
may  take  what  he  will  hath  asked  of  thee  even  as  a 
common  man,  offering  thee  a  price.  But  thinkest  thou 
he  hath  waited  thy  answer  through  the  days  and  the 
nights  that  have  followed  this  writing?" 

"Peace,  peace,"  cried  the  master,  "I  can  sustain  no 
more." 

"It  is  for  that  reason  I  would  advise  thee,  for 
what  would  be  the  worth  of  thy  life  an  I  carry  thy 
words  to  the  seraglio  ?  An  thou  hast  any  hope  of  seeing 
thy  Nourmahal  once  more  within  thy  harem,  thou  must 
needs  use  craft  against  power  and  wisdom  against  de- 
sire. Furthermore,  there  are  other  messages  here  await- 
ing thine  eye.  Perchance  there  is  one  from  Aletra." 

At  these  words  Attar  quickly  grasped  the  other  let- 
ters, which  he  had  forgotten,  and  sought  eagerly  among 
them  for  a  stroke  of  Aletra's  pen.  And  when  he  found 
none,  he  took  up  a  sealed  letter  in  Selim's  script  that 
bore  on  the  outside  his  name  and  the  words: 

Enclose  this  in  the  letter  of  the  Sheik  Nazrullah  to  my 
kinsman,  Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen. 

And  he  opened  and  read: 

If  thou  hearest  not  from  Aletra,  question  the  Imaum,  in 
whom  she  will  confide  if  she  be  still  in  Tunis.  She  is  not 
witb  Nazrullah,  but  make  thy  questions  with  all  secrecy. 
More  I  fear  to  write  lest  I  get  thee  into  trouble,  but  later 
will  I  send  thee  fuller  word.  Thou  canst  take  the  comfort 
to  thy  heart  tbat  she  batb  not  been  stricken. 


122  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Having  read  eagerly,  lie  turned  quickly  toward  his 
kinsman. 

"I  will  go  to  the  Imaum  at  once,"  he  said.  "Selim 
biddeth  me  question  him  concerning  Aletra.  Read  thou 
the  script." 

As  the  other  read,  he  turned  to  go;  but  before  he 
reached  the  door  the  voice  of  his  kinsman  stopped  him. 

"None  but  Allah  may  question  the  Imaum,"  he  said, 
"for  he,  also,  hath  perished." 

With  a  motion  of  despair  the  other  turned  from  the 
door  and  continued  to  search  among  the  letters  for  any- 
thing that  he  might  find  concerning  Aletra. 

When  the  last  script  had  been  scanned,  and  there 
was  naught  further  of  moment,  Attar  asked : 

"Upon  what  road  hath  Selim  journeyed  ?" 

"That  know  I  not,"  returned  his  kinsman;  "but  an 
thou  seest  Eamon,  he  will  tell  thee.  Also,  if  she  hath 
returned — and  how  else  came  such  a  shawl  into  thy 
harem  ? — she  may  be  in  hiding  nearby." 

"Yea,"  said  Attar,  and  his  heart  gave  a  great  bound, 
then  fell  as  he  thought  that,  finding  none  left  on  her 
return,  she  might  have  been  taken  back  to  the  royal 
harem. 

"Yea,"  he  repeated,  "an  she  hath  left  the  seraglio,  I 
will  find  her  though  every  sand  of  the  desert  feel  my 
footsteps;  though  I  search  under  the  leaves  of  every 
garden  in  Tunis." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Saoud,  "and  now  let  us  leave  this 
abode  of  sorrow  which  sickeneth  thy  mind.  Let  us  make 
fast  the  door  and  seek  Ramon  ere  I  take  the  message  to 
the  Sultan.  I  would  also  counsel  that  thou  layest  bare 
thy  heart  before  Ramon.  It  is  not  for  naught  that  he  is 


123 

called  the  'Wizard  of  the  Desert.' '     And  Attar  bowed 
his  head. 

When  they  had  secured  the  door,  they  fared  forth, 
Attar  to  seek  the  wizard  and  Saoud  to  learn  what  he 
could  of  the  seraglio  slaves.  For,  notwithstanding  what 
he  had  said,  he  believed  Aletra  was  still  in  the  seraglio. 
When  they  met  toward  nightfall,  Attar,  who  had 
not  yet  found  Ramon,  was  impatient  to  continue  the 
search ;  but  as  the  hour  was  late,  and  as  the  sheik  coun- 
seled waiting  till  the  morrow,  when  they  would  go  forth 
together,  he  saw  the  wisdom  of  his  words,  and  went  with 
him  to  his  house  where  they  passed  the  night. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE  TEAIL   OF  THE  DANCING  WOMAN 

AT  sunrise  they  began  the  search  again,  but  all  they 
could  learn  was  that  Ramon  was  expected  at  the 
place  of  auction  at  noon ;  so  Attar  returned  to  his  house 
to  make  a  further  search,  and  it  was  near  noon  when 
he  fared  forth  to  meet  the  sheik  at  the  fritter-shop  of 
Ben  Ali. 

As  Attar  passed  the  court  of  the  Mosque  of  Sadi  Ben 
Zaid  on  his  way  to  meet  his  kinsman,  one  of  the  doves 
that  circle  ceaselessly  about  the  minaret  fell  disabled 
upon  the  stones  at  his  feet.  It  was  not  mortally  hurt, 
for  it  struggled  with  fluttering,  widespread  wings  about 
the  street. 

He  made  several  efforts  to  catch  it,  but  ever  it  eluded 
him  with  short,  low  flights,  barely  skimming  the  ground. 
He  could  have  captured  almost  any  of  the  numberless 
gray  doves  that  were  unhurt,  but  this  wounded  white 
one  continued  to  elude  him. 

After  a  space,  as  its  pinions  grew  weak,  he 
stepped  forward — for  there  was  yet  time  before  Saoud 
would  reach  the  fritter-shop,  where  they  were  to  meet. 
He  was  in  a  fever  of  anxiety  to  see  the  wizard  and 
hear  the  words  he  might  be  able  to  give  him  of  Selim. 

As  it  was  not  yet  noon,  and  he  had  to  wait,  and  as 
waiting  is  one  of  the  virtues  of  the  East,  he  watched  the 

124 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  DANCING  WOMAN    125 

dove.  Its  wings  soon  dropped  and  spread  in  the  dust; 
slower  and  slower  become  its  movements,  shorter  and 
shorter  its  earth-skimming  nights,  till  at  last  it  rested  a 
moment  on  the  stones,  spent  but  still  fluttering. 

Another,  also,  had  been  watching  it — a  man.  He 
now  came  from  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  street,  and 
lifting  the  dove  in  his  hands  began  to  examine  it  for  the 
hurt.  This  was  soon  found,  for  one  tiny,  stemlike  leg 
hung  disabled.  Attar  drew  near  him. 

"Give  me  the  kindness  of  a  match,"  said  the  man, 
who  was  a  Hindu.  And  while  Attar  felt  for  his  case, 
the  other  resumed,  now  speaking  to  the  dove: 

"A  little  string — and  a  twig — and  a  little  time — and 
again  shalt  thou  circle  the  minarets." 

The  bird  lay  content  in  his  hand,  twisting  its  head 
from  side  to  side  to  look  into  his  face  in  childlike  ques- 
tioning. Even  when  the  little  leg  was  straightened  and 
bound  against  the  twig  it  made  no  struggle. 

Attar  watched  the  kind  deftness  of  the  Hindu's  hand. 
But  now,  as  he  looked  upon  the  face  bent  above  the 
dove,  he  felt  that  he  must  be  in  the  presence  of  some 
holy  man — so  full  of  loving,  compassionate  tenderness 
it  was. 

"Thou  are  skilled  ?"  said  Attar  when  the  other  had 
finished  and  the  dove  had  settled  in  security. 

"But  little,"  answered  the  Hindu  in  Arabic.  "Yet 
many  years  among  the  tribes  of  the  air  have  made  me 
think  for  them." 

A  rare,  beautiful  kindliness  shone  from  his  eyes.  As 
he  spoke,  he  balanced  the  dove  upon  his  wrist. 

It  was  a  special  auction  day;  many  caravans  had 
come  fresh  from  the  desert,  and  there  was  much  talk 
of  a  herd  of  young  mehari  (racing  camels)  being 


126  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

brought  from  a  far  oasis.  As  the  crowd  began  to 
thicken,  the  stranger  with  the  dove  was  being  jostled. 
He  carried  a  small  basket  in  one  hand  and  the  wounded 
dove  in  the  other. 

"Canst  thou  not  rest  the  dove  in  the  basket?"  asked 
Attar.  The  stranger  smiled  and  answered: 

"Nay;  it  is  best  thus — for  the  dove."  So  Attar's 
commanding  height  and  bulk  forced  a  way  for  the 
Hindu,  the  dove  still  perched  serenely  upon  his  arm. 

When  they  had  reached  an  opening,  he  thanked  the 
Moslem  with  gentle  courtesy  and  a  grave  humility. 
But,  even  as  he  showed  his  appreciation,  there  was  also 
an  expression  of  stifled  amusement.  Attar  did  not 
catch  this;  for,  having  suddenly  become  aware  of  the 
lapse  of  time,  he  was  in  haste  to  reach  the  fritter-shop. 

He  might  have  lingered  longer,  however ;  for,  though 
the  sheik  was  awaiting  him,  it  was  some  time  before  the 
boy  set  to  watch  for  the  Wizard  brought  them  word  that 
he  was  come. 

When  they  reached  the  court,  they  found  the  crowd 
so  dense  they  could  not  make  their  way  through  it.  But 
the  boy,  dodging  beneath  elbows  and  between  legs  of 
tall  Arabs,  soon  stood  beside  the  snake  charmer — the 
"Wizard  of  the  Desert,"  as  the  Hindu  mystic  was 
called. 

Saoud  had  bidden  him  ask  for  a  moment  before  the 
performance  began.  But  there  are  perhaps  other  boys 
who  would  have  forgotten  the  message  in  the  wonder 
of  beholding  a  great  nag — the  monstrous  cobra  of  the 
desert — used  as  a  plaything ;  while  men  who  would  have 
sprung  in  the  air  with  fright  if  confronted  by  the  rep- 
tile in  any  other  way  circled  closely  about,  within  easy 
striking  distance  of  its  deadly  fangs. 


THE  TEAIL  OF  THE  DANCING  WOMAN    127 

When  Attar  and  his  kinsman  had  bribed  and  pushed 
their  way  through  the  crowd  of  desert  men — Berbers, 
Bedouins,  Arabs,  Nomads — into  the  inner  circle,  the 
great  reptile,  brown  as  the  sands  of  the  desert  from 
whose  leagues  it  came,  had  begun  to  raise  its  head. 

From  the  coiled  mass  upon  the  silken  rug  the  head 
rose,  moving  from  side  to  side,  as  the  Wizard  swayed 
his  body  in  unison  with  the  air  that  floated  crystal  clear 
from  the  flute  which  he  held  lightly. 

"Is  that  Eamon  ?"  asked  Attar ;  for  when  he  beheld 
the  charmer  of  snakes  he  saw  with  amazement  that  he 
was  none  other  than  the  man  who  had  lifted  the  dove 
in  the  court  of  the  mosque. 

The  cobra  appeared  to  be  fascinated  with  the  melody, 
and  kept  time  by  moving  its  graceful  head  from  side  to 
side.  From  right  to  left,  from  left  to  right,  it  moved 
with  the  slow,  swaying  motion  of  a  pendulum.  Each 
time  the  head  of  the  nag  was  raised  insensibly  higher ; 
the  monster  was  uncoiling. 

It  was  perhaps  six  feet  in  length;  but  where  a  few 
moments  before  the  head  had  been  raised  two  feet,  it 
was  now  as  high  as  the  heads  of  the  smaller  boys  about 
the  circle. 

Even  as  they  looked,  it  passed  this  mark.  Back 
and  forth,  back  and  forth,  to  and  fro — it  followed  the 
sure,  unhurried,  measured  motion  of  the  figure  before 
it — it  was  now  as  high  as  the  waists  of  the  men,  yet 
no  one  sought  to  retreat;  nor  would  it  have  been  pos- 
sible, with  the  dense  mass  of  humanity  packed  closely 
about. 

The  coils  on  the  rug  were  scarcely  diminished  in  ap- 
parent length,  but  were  growing  slimmer.  The  head 
was  now  as  high  as  the  breast  of  the  Wizard,  and  had 


128  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

changed  in  shape.  It  was  growing  larger,  swelling 
about  the  neck. 

The  sun  shone  full  upon  its  back,  tipping  each  minute 
brown  enameled  scale  with  gold  as  it  moved  to  and  fro 
in  the  shadowless  space.  Its  armor  of  gleaming  topaz 
ran  the  gamut  of  golden  notes  with  each  sinuous  motion. 

It  was  even  with  the  man's  face — to  and  fro,  to  and 
fro,  it  swayed  with  the  music.  It  was  now  as  high  as 
his  eyes — his  forehead — the  top  of  his  head.  For  an 
instant  it  seemed  to  tower  above  him.  As  a  reflex  from 
the  prolonged  tenseness,  there  was  a  slight  movement  in 
the  crowd,  and  in  that  time  a  child  who  was  being  held 
aloft  put  out  its  hand  as  if  to  caress  the  reptile. 

The  eyes  of  the  man  who  held  him  were  so  intent 
upon  the  cobra  that  he  did  not  notice  the  movement  of 
the  little  hand  till,  with  incredible  swiftness,  the  ser- 
pent's head  darted  past  him  toward  it. 

But  even  as  the  cobra  made  its  sudden  plunge  at  the 
child's  arm,  which  was  the  only  motionless  object  within 
its  vision,  Ramon  with  wonderful  agility  put  forth  his 
hand  and,  brushing  the  child's  arm  away  almost 
roughly,  pursued  a  series  of  slow  motions  that  ever 
tended  downward  till  with  every  wavelike  movement 
the  serpent's  height  began  to  diminish.  The  circle  of 
men  gazed  with  fascinated  eyes  when  at  last  the  hand  of 
the  Wizard  went  down — down — down — and  with  it  the 
great,  swelling,  beautiful  head  of  the  monster. 

Later,  as  the  cobra  lay  coiled  in  the  sunlight,  the 
man  who  held  the  child  came  closer  to  the  Wizard  and 
spoke  in  a  low  tone  that  only  he  might  hear,  saying: 

"Much  have  I  heard  of  the  wisdom  of  Ramon  the 
Wizard;  but  to-day  have  I  seen  the  workings  of  his 
compassion.  For  well  I  know,"  he  continued,  "that 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  DANCING  WOMAN    129 

thou  hast  taken  thy  life  in  thine  hand  to  save  a  child, 
and  any  favor  whatsoever  thou  cravest  at  the  hands  of 
Hassin  al  Marmud  is  thine. 

"By  the  gracious  favor  of  the  sublime  Sultan  I  am  in 
the  seraglio,  and  when  thy  feet  crave  to  press  the 
royal  rugs  of  the  Salamlik  thou  shalt  but  breathe  my 
name  and  the  gates  will  open." 

And  the  Wizard  replied  lightly: 

"Consider  not  thy  danger  to  have  been  so  grave.  Few 
are  the  moments  of  the  day  when  we  walk  not  upon  the 
turf  of  our  own  graves;  but  if  the  scant  earth  hold  us 
up  in  the  sunshine  as  we  pass  over,  why  turn  back  and 
measure  the  depth  of  the  turf  that  sustained  us?  Go 
thy  way,  and  waste  not  thy  gratitude  upon  a  charmer  of 
serpents." 

Having  spoken  these  words  he  turned  away;  and 
when  the  sheik  saw  that  he  was  finished,  he  brought 
Attar  before  him,  and  as  they  sought  the  fritter-shop 
they  asked  him  of  Selim. 

"I  held  no  word  with  him,"  returned  the  Hindu; 
"but  David,  the  camel-driver,  hath  bound  a  lotion  on 
the  foot  of  his  beast,  which  had  gone  lame,  and  they 
conversed  more  than  an  hour." 

"And  where  bideth  David  ?"  asked  Attar. 

"He  hath  gone  to  Khairwan,  but  he  returneth  by 
Friday.  The  greater  haste  will  be  to  await  him  here," 
he  added,  seeing  Attar's  impatience. 

When  they  were  seated  upon  the  rugs  Aneese,  the 
waiter,  came  and,  bending  from  his  lordly  height,  placed 
a  cup  of  coffee  at  the  foot  of  each. 

The  deep  green  of  the  tiles,  the  soft,  subdued  tints 
of  the  fixtures,  the  odor  of  the  fritters  and  coffee,  the 
slow  motions  of  the  Arabs  that  served,  all  produced  a 


130  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

comforting  effect.  The  day  was  warm  for  December, 
and  the  coolness  of  the  arched  shop  was  restful. 

"Ramon  knoweth  the  heart  of  man,"  said  the  sheik, 
in  Arabic,  after  they  had  sipped  their  coffee,  "and  thou 
wilt  find  help  if  thou  givest  him  word  of  thy  per- 
plexity." 

Attar  nodded,  and  together  they  told  the  Wizard  of 
the  complications  surrounding  the  disappearance  of 
Aletra.  There  was  a  look  of  thoughtful  intelligence 
upon  the  Hindu's  face  as  the  story  unfolded,  showing 
that  he  took  a  deep  interest ;  but  at  mention  of  the  Sul- 
tan's offer  he  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  penetrate  into  the 
secrets  of  the  seraglio,  as  thou  knowest,"  he  said. 

The  others  could  not  but  concur,  yet  there  was  a  look 
of  determination,  as  well  as  acute  suffering,  upon  At- 
tar's face.  The  determination  came,  perhaps,  from  his 
Russian  mother,  or  his  long  residence  in  the  Occident ; 
but  Ramon  noticed  only  the  look  of  misery,  and  his 
heart  went  out  to  him  with  the  same  compassion  he 
had  felt  for  the  dove — for  he,  too,  had  known  suffering. 

He  regarded  him  much  as  he  had  the  wounded  dove ; 
but  binding  a  man's  heart  was  a  greater  task  when  the 
string  must  come  from  the  Sultan's  seraglio. 

He  knit  his  brows  and  thought  deeply  in  the  silence 
that  followed.  Presently  his  face  cleared  and  he  spoke 
the  one  word :  "Idillah." 

"The  dancer?"  asked  the  old  sheik. 

"She  hath  once  been  a  woman  of  the  royal  harem. 
Capricious,  cold,  unscrupulous,"  he  answered  slowly. 

"And  Ramon  understandeth  women,"  said  the  sheik. 

Ramon  shook  his  head. 

"Say  that  I  understand  Sanscrit  or  the  serpents,  or 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  DANCING  WOMAN    131 

that  I  can  read  the  secrets  of  the  stars — anything  which 
is  within  the  possible;  but  women — ah,  they  are  differ- 
ent! Yet  will  I  go  hence  and  learn  if  this  woman  be 
still  in  the  Street  of  the  Dancers.  For  thou  knowest 
such  are  here  to-day  and  there  to-morrow,  having  no 
sure  abiding  place." 

With  this  he  left  them,  and  they  took  their  way  to 
the  bazaar  to  find  if  any  message  or  script  had  come 
from  Selim  or  Nazrullah. 


CHAPTEK  XVII 

IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER. 

THAT  night  Idillah  danced  the  dance  of  the  Iris  as 
never  before.  The  three  men  sat  together  well  to 
the  front.  Attar  drew  his  burnoose  so  that  but  little  of 
his  face  could  be  seen.  His  mood  was  not  for  entertain- 
ment; yet  he  wanted  to  read  the  lineaments  of  the 
woman  who  alone  could  help  him  through  her  knowledge 
of  the  slaves  of  the  royal  household. 

The  girl  seemed  to  know  that  she  was  before  a  new 
and  critical  presence.  Attar  aroused  her  interest  by 
his  carriage,  the  shimmer  of  his  silken  garments,  and 
by  the  golden  beard,  which  was  not  concealed.  All 
these  fanned  her  imagination,  though  she  could  not  see 
his  face. 

As  the  moments  passed  and  he  became  interested,  he 
did  not  notice  that  the  Hindu,  by  moving  adroitly,  had 
managed  to  draw  the  hood  of  his  mantle  back,  a  little 
at  a  time,  so  that  Idillah,  seeing  him,  should  single  him 
out  and  mark  him  with  her  favor,  that  the  meeting 
might  be  easier. 

He  had  little  faith  in  Attar's  tact,  and  was,  in  truth, 
afraid  that  his  coldness  and  directness  in  questioning 
might  not  only  lose  them  her  assistance,  but  be  the 
means  of  warning  the  royal  harem. 

132 


IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER    133 

The  life  of  the  dancing  girl  had  not  yet  written  its 
story  upon  her  face.  She  was  fair — of  mixed  desert 
and  Berber  blood — with  hair  that  was  almost  tawny 
in  the  sunlight  and  darkly  splendid  in  the  shadow,  and 
had  the  wondering  eyes  of  a  child. 

The  dance  of  the  Iris  was  as  voluptuous  as  the  per- 
fume of  the  flower  from  which  it  took  its  name.  There 
was  something  strangely  harmonious  between  it  and  the 
music  of  the  half-smothered  tom-toms — little  tom-toms, 
struck  in  a  broken  measure  lightly,  until  somehow  they 
suggested  an  echo  in  their  murmurous  tones. 

The  dance  had  motive,  as  do  all  the  dances  of  the 
East;  but  in  the  different  poses  and  circles,  while  she 
was  graceful  and  wonderfully  mobile,  the  impression 
upon  the  beholder  was  like  looking  upon  a  picture  with- 
out perspective.  The  symbolic,  tragic  intensity  that  un- 
derlies all  genius,  when  associated  with  color  or  motion 
or  sound,  was  entirely  lacking;  yet  she  was  the  whole 
picture,  and  men  went  wild  in  their  enthusiasm. 

They  showered  coins  and  flowers  and  trinkets  upon 
her,  and  she  danced  upon  the  coins  and  flowers  and 
trinkets,  nor  lifted  one  in  her  henna-tinted  fingers. 

The  old  sheik  unfastened  a  small  jewel  with  his 
bony  fingers  and  threw  it  to  her.  Ramon  threw  her  a 
handful  of  coins  and  looked  at  her  with  his  great  soft, 
brown  eyes.  He  had  a  fashion  of  looking  at  women  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  the  coin  he  threw  seem  but  as 
an  inconsequent  accompaniment. 

Idillah  recognized  the  flattery  of  the  look  and  smiled ; 
but  Attar,  the  golden-bearded  giant,  continued  to  look 
upon  her  without  seeing  her.  With  the  instinct  of  a 
pretty  woman  she  resented  this,  and  determined  to  make 
him  see.  The  trick  of  bending  her  head  upon  his  knee, 


134  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

or  falling,  a  quivering  heap,  at  his  feet,  which  many  of 
the  dancers  use  was  beneath  her. 

She  circled  and  swirled  and  beamed  about  him,  but 
always,  as  if  she  feared  his  detaining  hand,  she  darted 
away  like  a  bird.  Again  and  again  she  came  so  close 
that  he  felt  her  breath,  but  so  swift  were  her  movements 
that  he  could  not  have  touched  her  if  he  had  sought  to 
do  so.  Once  he  moved  his  hand  for  more  coin.  She 
was  quite  close,  when,  laughing  into  his  eyes,  she  swam 
away  in  the  cloud  of  incense  and  tambak  smoke  and 
vanished. 

The  three  men  rose  immediately  and  went  out  to 
await  her  exit.  She  was  already  in  the  doorway.  A 
slave  had  picked  the  flowers  and  trinkets  and  coins  from 
the  floor  and  given  them  into  her  hands ;  but  as  the  men 
came  into  view,  she  lifted  the  spoil  and  laughingly  threw 
it  among  the  beggars  that  crowded  the  doorway.  It 
was  said  that  she  did  this  every  night. 

Ramon  and  the  sheik  urged  Attar  forward;  but  he 
was  loath  to  go,  and  prevailed  upon  the  Hindu  to  get 
speech  with  her,  while  he  and  the  other  waited  in  the 
shadow.  In  a  few  minutes  Ramon  returned  with  a 
scrap  of  paper  in  his  hand. 

"An  hour  before  midnight,"  he  said,  "go  thou  to  this 
place.  Idillah  will  await  thee." 

"Thou  hast  told  her  why  I  would  have  speech  with 
her  ?"  asked  Attar. 

Ramon  was  silent. 

"Thinkest  thou  she  hath  been  willing?"  resumed 
Attar. 

"Thou  hast  seen  me  with  her  but  the  space  of  a 
moment.  How  should  I  tell  her  of  thy  story  ?"  returned 
the  Hindu  impatiently,  and  he  would  have  left  the 


IN"  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER  135 

others,  but  he  feared  that  Attar  might  anger  Idillah 
by  delaying ;  so  he  waited,  and  when  the  hour  had  come, 
led  the  Moslem  with  many  cautions  and  much  advice 
to  the  foot  of  Idillah's  little  stairway. 

When  Attar  had  mounted  the  stair  by  the  light  of  the 
small  candle  at  the  top,  he  was  undecided  as  to  the 
best  way  of  dealing  with  the  girl.  The  Wizard's  sug- 
gestion that  he  tell  her  that  he  was  seeking  a  jewel 
that  he  prized  would  have  been  good  in  the  hands  of 
Ramon. 

"But  I  am  not  Ramon,"  he  thought,  "and  every  man 
hath  a  way  by  which  he  attaineth  his  desire,  and  that 
way  is  the  easiest  to  him.  None  may  graft  the  vine 
upon  the  fig-tree,  nor  the  fig  upon  the  date-palm."  Yet 
he  was  admitted  to  Idillah  before  he  had  formed  any 
plan  better  than  the  Hindu's. 

The  sudden  glare  of  the  brilliantly  lighted  room,  with 
its  blotches  of  color,  half  bewildered  him. 

Idillah  had  been  one  of  the  favorite  wives  at  the 
seraglio,  but  so  intolerant  was  she  of  the  royal  favor 
straying  for  a  moment  that  she  kept  the  harem  in  con- 
tinual unrest.  So,  one  day  when  the  master  himself 
tired  of  her  caprices,  he  bestowed  her  as  a  mark  of  honor 
upon  a  petty  ruler  who  had  done  him  a  service. 

The  new  owner  was  mercenary,  and  valued  the  beau- 
tiful silken  dower  of  his  new  wife  fully  as  much  as  he 
did  the  wife  herself.  But  before  many  moons  he  was 
glad  to  divorce  her,  and  even  to  add  to  the  dower  that 
she  had  brought  with  her,  to  be  free  from  her  imperious 
exactions  of  courtesy  and  attentions. 

His  four  other  wives,  docile  as  they  were,  having 
scarcely  drawn  a  peaceful  breath  if  the  master  so  much 


136  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

as  looked  upon  them,  felt  almost  translated  to  paradise 
when  she  gathered  her  silken  dower  and  took  her  de- 
parture. 

It  was  a  part  of  this  dower  that  met  the  gaze  of  Attar 
as  he  entered.  There  was  no  method  or  arrangement, 
of  color  or  period.  The  effect  was  barbaric,  crude,  ele- 
mental in  its  confusion,  yet  nothing  else  would  have 
expressed  the  woman  who  stood  in  the  midst  of  it  half 
so  well.  The  light  came  from  many  wrought  lamps,  but 
one  was  higher  than  the  rest.  Under  this  stood  Idillah. 

She  had  cast  aside  the  dancing-robe,  and  wore  a  Per- 
sian scarf  of  shadowy  silk  wrapped  about  her  perfect 
body,  after  the  fashion  of  Eastern  girls  in  the  desert. 
The  folds  of  the  silk  shimmered  and  gleamed  almost 
white  on  the  high  lights  of  her  shapely  limbs.  She  held 
a  red  rose  in  her  dazzling  teeth,  and  smiled  as  she 
noticed  his  confusion. 

When  he  did  not  speak,  she  came  toward  him. 

"Salaama,"  she  said,  and  made  an  obesiance  fit  for 
greeting  the  Sultan. 

"Peace  be  with  thee,  Idillah,"  he  answered  simply. 
"Ramon  gaveth  me  word  that  I  could  talk  with  thee." 

Idillah  nodded,  and  led  him  to  a  small  divan  in  an- 
other part  of  the  rich,  crowded  room,  and  with  dainty 
grace  loosened  the  fastenings  of  his  silken  burnoose. 

She  knew  that  he  was  speaking  of  having  word  with 
her;  but  as  the  hood  of  the  concealing  mantle  dropped 
away,  the  majestic  beauty — the  grandeur  of  the  man — 
made  her  heedless  of  his  words,  and  the  hero-worship 
of  a  child  shone  from  her  eyes  as  she  threw  herself  upon 
the  floor  at  his  feet  to  listen. 

"Thou  wert  in  the  royal  harem?"  he  asked,  looking 
upon  the  perfection  of  her  grace  pityingly. 


IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER    137 

"Yea,"  she  answered ;  "but  many  are  there  who  have 
shared  the  favor  of  the  Sultan  that  thou  wouldst  not 
turn  thy  head  to  gaze  upon." 

"Thou  comprehendest  not,"  he  answered. 

"Thou  art  right,  O  noble  sheik!  Idillah  knoweth 
not  what  grace  Allah  hath  given  her  to  win  thy  favor." 

Then,  for  she  was  vain  of  the  perfect  poses  of  her 
dancing,  she  added: 

"Did  the  dance  of  the  Iris  please  thee?" — laughing 
at  her  own  conceit — "that  thou  wouldst  break  it  from 
its  stem  and  wear  it  ?" 

When  he  answered  not  she  repeated :  "Did  my  danc- 
ing please  thee?" 

"Yea,"  said  Attar.     "It  was  good." 

"Good,  good!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  in  amaze  at  the 
coldness  of  his  tone.  Then  musingly :  "It  was  not  my 
dancing  ?"  and  she  smiled.  "Hath  my  face  found  favor 
in  thine  eyes?  Am  I  beautiful?  I  am  hungry  for  a 
word  from  thee,  for  wherever  thou  goest  shouldst  have 
the  fairest." 

"Knowest  thou  not  that  thou  art  fair?"  he  asked 
chidingly. 

"Many  have  so  spoken,"  she  said,  "and  I  have  held 
their  words  no  closer  than  doth  the  wind  of  the  desert 
a  mote  of  fleece.  But  word  of  thine  would  I  treasure 
as  a  deep-hued  jewel  of  gladness." 

"Then,  Idillah,"  he  answered,  with  a  faint  smile, 
"thou  art  fair,"  and  she  waited  eagerly  for  more  praise. 
"Thou  hast  a  goodly  form,  a  bright  eye,  and  much  hair 
of  a  rich  color,  and  thy  teeth  are  sound,  showing  that 
thou  are  both  young  and  healthy." 

As  he  spoke,  her  face  changed.  The  pleased,  «ewy 
smile  of  gratification  was  followed  by  a  questioning  look 


138  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

— a  look  of  non-comprehension;   then  her  color  rose 
slowly  in  anger. 

"And  comest  thou  hither  in  the  silence  of  the  night 
to  tell  me  that  my  eyes  are  good,  and  that  I  am,  for- 
sooth, young  and  healthy?" 

She  had  risen,  and  stood  before  him  in  growing  fury. 

"An  thou  hadst  not  asked  me,"  he  said,  "I  would  have 
said  naught  of  thy  beauty,  which  to  thee  must  be  com- 
mon enough ;  for  hast  thou  not  seen  it  daily  ?" 

"Speak  not  of  me,  of  my  beauty,  of  my  dancing,  or 
of  anything  that  concerneth  me.  None  of  these  are 
aught  to  thee,  or  ever  shall  be!"  she  shrilled  in  her 
anger. 

"Thou  art  right,"  he  agreed.  "They  concern  me 
not.  Rather  would  I  that  thou  wert  old  and  ill-favored, 
so  wouldst  thou  have  a  soft  heart." 

"A  soft  heart  ?  What  manner  of  man  art  thou,  Attar 
abu  Hamed  al  Hassen?" 

But  he  was  wearied,  and  so  filled  with  anxiety  that  he 
became  angry  in  his  turn  at  her  desire  for  compliment. 

"Ramon,  the  Wizard,  hath  told  me  that  thou  couldst 
help  me  in  my  search.  Art  thou  willing  to  favor  me 
with  the  knowledge  thou  hast,  or  dost  thou  refuse  ?" 

"Ramon,  the  Wizard,  said  naught  of  any  quest,"  said 
Idillah. 

"Wallahi!"  exclaimed  Attar.  "I  crave  thy  forgive- 
ness with  my  forehead  in  the  dust,  and  thank  thee  for 
the  favor  thou  hast  shown  a  sorrowing  son  of  Islam !" 

His  sudden  contrition  and  homage  soothed  her  vanity, 
the  more  that  it  graced  a  man  so  nobly  made. 

"Speak,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  as  she  stood  with 
clasped  hands  and  with  eyes  upon  the  floor — "speak, 


IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER    139 

and  that  which  lieth  within  the  power  of  Idillah  is 
thine,  even  now  before  thou  asketh." 

"Thy  words  are  words  of  comfort  to  my  heart,"  he 
answered.  "I  will  tell  thee.  I  seek  one  who  was  in  the 
royal  harem." 

"Bideth  she  there  now  ?"  asked  Idillah. 

"I  know  not;  but  much  dependeth  upon  that  knowl- 
edge. Canst  thou  help  me  to  that  knowledge  ?" 

"  'Tis  long  since  I  was  in  the  harem,"  she  answered, 
averting  her  eyes. 

"Canst  thou  not  think  of  some  slave?" 

"Nay,  I  changed  my  slaves  often." 

"Or  one  who  hath,  perchance,  brought  sweets  or 
broideries  ?" 

"Nay." 

"Thou  seest  no  way?"  he  asked,  gathering  his  bur- 
noose  from  the  divan. 

"Nay.  It  were  a  grave  deed  to  pry  into  the  mys- 
teries of  the  seraglio,  and  life  itself  may  be  the  forfeit, 

0  Attar,  and  thou  art  too  goodly  a  man  to  perish  for  a 
woman." 

"I  will  find  another  way,"  he  said,  rising.  "I  thank 
thee  for  the  favor  of  listening  to  my  sorrows." 

"Is  it  a  slave  thou  seekest  ?  Would  she  be  among  the 
slaves  ?"  she  asked,  to  detain  him. 

"Nay,  the  Nourmahal  would  she  be." 

"What  sayest  thou  ?  Wait.  Could  I  but  go  into  the 
seraglio  as  a  veiled  woman "  She  interrupted  her- 
self with  a  laugh. 

"Yet  am  I  merry  that  I  have  outgrown  the  veil ;  that 

1  am  no  longer  the  slave  of  any  man,  but  free,  free  to 
talk  to  whom  I  will,  as  now  in  the  depths  of  the  night." 


140  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"But  thy  honor?"  questioned  Attar.  He  spoke  sor- 
rowfully. 

"Honor!  sayest  thou?  I  have  now  the  honor  of  a 
man,  a  Moslem,  a  Christian,  a  Hindu — have  I  not  had 
speech  with  all  ?" 

As  he  continued  to  look  reproachfully  upon  her,  she 
moved  uneasily  and  asked,  half  defiantly : 

"Is  there  any  virtue  greater  than  that  of  a  true  son 
of  Islam  ?  Even  so  is  mine.  I  steal  not,  nor  defraud, 
nor  bear  false  witness,  nor  defile  the  mosques  with  cries 
of  Wallahi.  I  kill  not,  nor  spread  sedition,  nor  consort 
with  unbelievers. 

"Mine  is  the  honor  of  a  man — behold  me !"  she  said, 
raising  her  right  arm  in  a  heroic  attitude.  "~No  more 
defiled  than  the  godliest,  godlier  than  the  most  defiled. 
This  honor,  the  honor  of  a  man,  I  pledge  thee  in  keeping 
the  secret  of  thy  undertaking.  Here  is  my  hand." 

"Since  it  is  thy  will  to  be  measured  after  the  manner 
of  men,  I  touch  not  thy  hand." 

"Thy  reason?" 

"Man  rendereth  to  the  utmost  for  his  pleasure. 
Women  like  thee  not  only  waste  the  lives  that  God 
hath  given  them,  but  spend  the  souls  and  fortunes  of 
men  for  the  beam  of  a  jewel  or  the  deep  dye  of  raiment 
or  the  power  of  a  moment." 

"Man  rendereth  unto  the  utmost  farthing,  thou  say- 
est?" she  asked,  with  blazing  eyes. 

"Thou  hast  spoken  of  the  honor  of  man.  Such  is  a 
part  of  that  honor." 

"Fool,  fool  that  thou  art,"  she  cried,  "with  thy  great 
stature,  and  thy  beauty  and  wisdom,  and  thine  eyes' 
searching  sight !  Canst  thou  not  see  that  the  price  thy 
honor  knoweth  is  mean,  bare,  all  worthless  beside  that 


IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER    141 

which  we  give.  Thinkest  them  that  the  gifts  of  gold  or 
jewels  or  fair  raiment  preserve  the  honor  of  the  giver  ? 
Then  how  much  greater  the  honor  of  one  like  unto  me, 
who  giveth  her  pride,  her  body,  her  soul,  her  children's 
reverence;  who  bringeth  her  father  to  shame  and  her 
mother  into  infamy !" 

She  burst  into  frantic  weeping. 

"0  women  of  Islam !  When  will  the  unbelievers 
teach  the  Moslem?  When  will  the  Moslem  mother 
nurse  her  children  in  the  safe  knowledge  of  the  un- 
changing love  of  the  master?  They  see  it  not,  but 
babble  of  Kismet — the  Imaums,  and  Mollahs — while 
the  Christians  walk  step  by  step  into  the  fertile  places 
of  Africa.  Can  they  not  see  that  the  Christians  are 
born  in  truth  by  women  that  believe  the  love  of  the 
master  is  for  them  alone? 

"O,  my  holy  friend,"  she  continued,  shaking  her 
head,  "the  bravest  man  in  Islam  is  half  coward,  for  he 
is  the  offspring  of  a  woman  who  ever  has  been  afraid. 
Give  unto  the  women  of  Islam  security,  and  they  will 
breed  power !" 

She  looked  past  Attar  into  the  distance,  and  her 
features  were  set  as  in  prophecy. 

"Idillah,"  he  said  gravely,  laying  his  hand  upon  her 
head,  "thou  hast  a  strife  with  Allah,  not  men ;  for  unto 
both  men  and  women  hath  he  given  his  commands,  and 
well  thou  knowest  a  man's  station  in  paradise  dependst 
upon  the  number  of  his  wives  and  children.  Thou  art 
not  like  unto  the  others.  Get  thee  away,  and  take  the 
veil  for  some  good  man." 

"Nay,  why  take  the  veil  ?  Men  veil  not  their  faces 
that  they  may  not  be  seen  of  women." 


142  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Attar  turned  away  impatiently.  "Quarrel  with  Allah 
an  thou  wilt.  I  made  not  the  laws  nor  the  veils." 

"Nay,  but  thou  boldest  thyself  above  touching  the 
tips  of  my  fingers,  for  that  mine  honor  is  the  same  as 
thine  own.  I  dance  for  the  love  of  the  quick  motion, 
and  the  smiling  faces,  the  lights,  the  music,  and  the  love 
in  the  eyes  of  every  man.  I  seek  it  as  those  who  hunger 
seek  food." 

"Hast  thou  found  it  not  ?"  asked  Attar. 

"Nay,  I  think  I  have  found  it,  but  'tis  a  mirage, 
ever  a  mirage — a  scorching  wilderness  where  I  would 
gather  flowers." 

"An  thou  shouldst  find  it  in  the  arms  of  a  wanderer 
in  the  desert  ?"  he  asked. 

"Then  would  I  cast  aside  all  other  thoughts  for  him, 
and  in  the  place  where  he  had  planted  his  foot,  there 
would  I  put  mine  also  until  we  reached  the  utmost 
height." 

"For  him  wouldst  thou  take  the  veil  ?"  asked  Attar. 

"Nay,  nor  need  would  there  be  for  the  veil  of  wool  or 
of  silk,  for  the  veil  of  disdain  for  all  others  would  hide 
my  smiles." 

Turning,  she  waved  her  hand  about  the  room. 

"There  are  good  men  in  Islam,"  he  interrupted. 

"Have  I  not  seen  them  ?"  she  answered  scornfully,  "at 
the  palace  of  dancers,  with  their  sons  beside  them  ? 
Have  I  not  seen  their  fingers  linger  as  they  place  a  coin 
upon  the  forehead  of  some  favorite — a  woman  they  hold 
as  the  dust  beneath  their  feet,  for  hath  she  not  sinned 
greatly  in  not  having  wisdom  for  herself  and  them 
also?" 

"Yet  the  wives  of  Moslems  are  happy,  living  in  peace 
with  the  masters — men  like  unto  the  ones  thou  hast 
seen." 


IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBEK  143 

"Happy,  sayest  thou  ?"  she  answered.  "What  know- 
est  thou,  a  man,  of  the  heart  of  a  woman?"  Then 
slowly : 

"I  tell  thee  they  are  not  happy,  an  they  love." 

"Thou  thinkest  ?"  he  asked  sadly. 

"£J"ay,  the  wise  only  are  the  ones  who  think — learned 
men  of  reason  like  thee — women  but  know." 

Again  she  pointed  to  the  things  about  her  as  when  he 
interrupted  her  before. 

"These  adornments  of  my  abode  are  the  gifts  of  the 
Sultan  and  my  sheik  husband.  My  short  life  with  the 
last  as  his  wife  is  all  that  shameth  me,  O  righteous  one ; 
yet  art  thou  so  much  better  than  I  ?  Again  the  honor  of 
man  I  offer  thee  in  thy  undertaking.  Wilt  thou 
take  it  ?" 

This  time  he  said: 

"I  take  thy  hand,  yet  not  as  holding  the  honor  of  a 
man,  but  that  of  a  woman,  which  is  greater.  Idillah, 
thou  hast  a  beautiful  soul,  and  I  honor  thee." 

The  hand  he  took  was  cold,  but  her  eyes  looked  fear- 
lessly into  his. 

"When  thou  seekest  me  again,  thou  will  not  find  me 
in  the  Street  of  the  Dancers,"  she  said.  Then,  with  a 
sudden  change,  she  whirled  about ;  the  seeress  gone,  she 
was  once  more  a  thing  of  lightness;  yet  her  lips 
trembled,  and  her  eyes  were  floating  in  a  mist  as  she 
attempted  a  trivial  smile. 

A  glass  of  water  stood  upon  a  tabouret  at  her  side. 
She  drank  it  eagerly,  then  with  quick,  sure  motions  she 
opened  the  Koran  and  took  from  its  leaves  some  pieces 
of  paper.  Attar,  who  was  standing  with  his  burnoose 
wrapped  around  him  in  readiness  to  depart,  watched 
her  in  silence  as  she  prepared  to  write. 

"Tarry,"  she  said;  "I  will  put  the  words  upon  this 


144  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

paper  that  will  take  thee  into  the  seraglio.  Yet  much 
caution  must  I  command,  being  in  scant  favor,  and  my 
hand  lendeth  itself  but  poorly  to  the  forming  of  script; 
so  rest  thy  weariness  upon  the  couch  while  I  put  down 
such  words  as  shall  give  thee  greatest  opportunity." 

As  he  hesitated,  she  added:  "It  will  be  well  after 
the  call  of  the  gaffirs  when  I  make  ready  to  seal,  so  make 
thyself  content." 

Attar  was  weary,  and  the  softness  of  the  couch  with 
its  perfumed  rugs  and  robes  was  grateful.  Before  be- 
ginning to  write,  Idillah  took  from  the  corner  a  great 
pipe,  filled  with  Turkish  tambak  mixture  and,  without 
touching  his  hand,  gave  it  to  him.  He  watched  her 
poise  her  pen,  consider,  and  write. 

There  was  a  faint  sound  of  music,  for  they  were  still 
dancing  not  far  away.  With  the  pipe  came  a  feeling  of 
drowsy  comfort.  Soon  the  figure  of  Idillah,  with  her 
knitted  brow  and  flying  fingers,  became  less  distinct, 
vague,  shadowy,  and  presently  the  pipe  fell  from  his  lips 
upon  the  heavy  bokarra,  and  he  slept. 

Having  sealed  the  letter,  she  rose,  turned  quickly,  and 
brought  it  to  Attar. 

"Here  is  the  letter  that  will  bring  thee  into  the  heart 
of  the  seraglio,  where  I  go  not  now,  and  thy  wisdom 
must  do  for  thee  what  remaineth  to  be  done,"  she  said. 

When  there  was  no  answer,  she  called  him  sharply, 
and  would  have  put  her  icy  hand  upon  his  face  and 
sought  to  rouse  him  by  stronger  means,  but  something 
stayed  her. 

In  the  profoundness  of  his  sleep  much  of  the  dignity 
that  was  a  part  of  his  bearing  was  gone.  The  lines  of 
suffering  also  that  were  recently  carved  upon  his  fea- 
tures had  disappeared,  and  that  look  of  helplessness 


IN  THE  DANCING  WOMAN'S  CHAMBER    145 

peculiar  to  men  of  great  stature  when  off  guard  was 
upon  him. 

Despite  the  golden  beard  and  the  great  frame,  there 
was  a  boyishness  in  the  wide,  smooth  brow,  the  unem- 
bittered  lips,  that  touched  the  protecting  maternal  in- 
stinct of  the  woman  as  she  looked  down  upon  him ;  and, 
despairing  of  awakening  him  without  clamor,  she  lifted 
a  rug  and  laid  it  gently  upon  him,  as  if  he  were  in  truth 
a  child. 

The  night  had  grown  chilly,  for  the  great  furnace  of 
sunlit  sand  in  the  distance  had  cooled  for  many  hours. 

Twice  she  put  forth  her  hand  to  waken  him,  and  twice 
she  withdrew  it. 

As  she  looked  upon  the  abandon  of  the  great  body  in 
extreme  weariness,  the  dawning  of  a  new  sense  of  womT 
anhood  stirred  her  heart.  This  man,  who  slept  quietly 
within  sight  of  her  perfect  self,  was  the  first  that  ever 
had  gazed  upon  her  tenderly,  but  without  desire. 

As  she  looked,  he  sighed  deeply,  as  one  whose  boat  of 
dreams  sailed  in  the  leaden  waters  of  despair.  Hearing 
this,  a  great  compassion  filled  her,  and  in  place  of 
awakening  him,  with  touch  light  as  the  breath  of  dawn, 
she  covered  him  with  other  silken  rugs  and  embroidered 
stuffs;  but  never  did  her  hand  touch  his  or  her  lips 
satisfy  their  craving. 

"Thou  shalt  sleep  till  first  the  morning  breaks,"  she 
whispered  softly.  "And  thy  slave  Idillah  will  keep 
watch  at  thy  feet." 

Having  laden  the  sleeping  figure  with  the  warmest 
of  the  rugs,  she  extinguished  the  lights,  one  by  one, 
until  only  a  tiny  gleam  showed  through  the  mimic 
crescent  of  Damascus  brasswork. 


146  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

She  shivered  as  she  gathered  the  folds  of  a  white 
wool  haik  about  her  and  made  ready  to  rest. 

Before  the  couch  on  which  Attar  lay,  and  which  was 
the  only  bed  in  the  room,  was  a  great  rug  from  Mecca. 
On  this  she  sought  rest ;  but  as  she  drew  the  other  rugs 
upon  her,  she  saw  that,  waking,  the  man  could  not  but 
behold  her.  Very  softly  she  rose  and,  using  all  her  fine 
strength,  drew  the  Mecca  rug  across  the  foot  of  the 
angerib — beyond  hazard  of  his  waking  gaze. 

The  room  was  very  still;  even  the  music  in  the  dis- 
tance had  ceased,  and  only  the  occasional  stealthy  open- 
ing of  a  door  and  the  shuffling  of  slippered  feet  sounded 
in  the  night. 

Attar  slept  the  insensate  sleep  of  profound  oblivion. 
Idillah  slept  not ;  but,  drawing  the  embroidered  burnoose 
over  her  head,  sobbed  forth  her  heart  in  the  call  that  is 
ages  old: 

"Allah,  Allah,  Allah!  Thou  who  art  merciful  and 
compassionate,  absolve  thou  me  from  mine  iniquity. 
Allah,  Allah,  Allah!" 


WHEN"  Attar  came  down  the  little  stairway  in  the 
dawn,  he  went  straightway  to  the  house  of  the 
sheik  and  told  him  of  the  help  Idillah  had  given,  and 
showed  him  her  letter  to  Babek.  But  his  kinsman 
frowned,  for  he  was  not  well  pleased  that  Attar  should 
enter  the  seraglio,  and  he  sought  to  reason  with  him. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  pressing  his  hand  upon  the  other's 
breast,  "thou  are  consuming  thyself  and  thy  goods  for 
a  woman.  Such  is  not  the  command  of  Allah.  What 
is  a  woman  ?  Doth  not  the  Koran  say :  'A  man's  wives 
are  his  lands?'  Doth  not  a  man  love  his  land  for  the 
fruits  of  the  land  ? 

"The  jasmine  flower  that  perfumeth  the  shade,  the 
date  that  refresheth  his  strength,  the  juice  of  the  grape 
that  quencheth  his  thirst,  are  the  fruits  of  the  land,  and 
therefore  he  holdeth  the  land  precious;  but  the  Sultan 
offereth  thee  two  wives  for  this  woman,  and,  further- 
more, giveth  thee  such  substance  as  shall  permit  thee 
to  raise  up  a  household  of  great  magnitude." 

Attar  kept  silence.    The  sheik  looked  irritated. 

"Thou  wouldst  commit  a  sin,"  he  said. 

"What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do?"  asked  Attar,  lift- 
ing his  hands. 

"What  doth  a  man  do  when  his  house  hath  fallen 
147 


148  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

about  him  ?  He  buildeth  again  with  fresh  mortar  and 
new  bricks,  and  whiteneth  it  over,  and  sitteth  in  the 
shade  of  the  new  vine,  and  liveth  according  to  the 
commands  of  Allah. 

"Thou  shouldst  straightway  take  to  thyself  such 
wives  as  thou  canst,  and  when  thy  children  rise  about 
thee  in  thy  age,  wilt  thou  look  forward  to  paradise, 
where  thou  shalt  have  a  place  among  the  true  believers. 
The  Sultan  hath  thy  wife;  take  what  he  giveth  thee; 
established  thy  household,"  advised  the  sheik  earnestly. 

This  gave  Attar  no  comfort,  and  he  made  ready  to 
depart. 

"Then  take  thou  the  letter,"  said  the  sheik  after  a 
pause,  seeing  that  the  other's  heart  was  set,  "lay  it  be- 
fore the  commander  of  the  faithful,  and  ask  what  it 
meaneth.  Say  no  word  more,  but  wait  and  listen,  and 
cast  thine  eyes  about  thee ;  and  if  he  say  thy  wife  hath 
ceased  to  be  thy  wife,  take  what  he  hath  promised  thee, 
for  what  is  written  is  written. 

"If  he  say  he  hath  her  not,  ask  thou  where  she  hath 
fared.  No  other  word  shalt  thou  say,  for  silence  is 
ever  a  hard  questioner,  and  the  heart  will  answer  to  its 
commands  when  the  spoken  word  will  seal  the  lips." 

"Thinkest  thou  I  will  hear  the  truth?" 

"An  thou  gettest  speech  with  the  Sultan — yea." 

Then  Attar,  refusing  to  partake  of  food,  drew  his 
burnoose  about  him. 

"Allah  speed  thy  project  and  bless  thee  with  a  great 
household,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Peace  be  ever  with  thee,"  returned  Attar,  and  he 
left  him  and  took  his  way  toward  the  palace  of  the 
Sultan. 

On  presenting  Idillah's  letter,  Attar  was  conducted 


ATTAK'S  HOUB  OF  DECISION  149 

without  difficulty  to  Babek.  Having  read  the  letter  the 
chief  eunuch  of  the  harem  frowned  and  said : 

"The  royal  master  is  much  concerned  with  affairs  of 
state,  and  hath  little  time  to  give  thought  to  the  harem." 

Attar  produced  the  letter  that  had  been  sent  to  him 
by  the  Sultan's  command,  and,  showing  the  seal,  asked 
that  he  be  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  commander 
of  the  faithful  without  delay.  Babek,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  know  the  royal  temper  as  the  physician  knows 
the  patient's  pulse,  hesitated  and  asked : 

"Idillah,  how  fareth  she?" 

"Sound  and  well  favored  is  Idillah,"  returned  Attar. 

"Bideth  she  yet  in  the  Street  of  the  Dancers?"  he 
questioned  again — for  it  was  a  grievous  thing  in  his 
mind  that  Idillah  had  been  sent  from  the  seraglio — 
and  a  still  more  grievous  thing  that  she  had  gone  to  the 
Street  of  the  Dancers. 

"No  more  will  she  abide  there,"  answered  the  other. 

Babek  was  well  pleased  with  the  words,  and  inter- 
preted them  in  but  one  way.  He  questioned  no  further, 
and  left  him,  saying: 

"An  the  Sultan  will  see  thee,  I  will  bring  thee  word 
forthwith." 

It  was  an  hour  after  the  midday  call  to  prayer  when 
he  returned  and  motioned  Attar  to  follow. 

"I  will  take  thee  to  the  inner  doors,"  said  Babek  as 
they  went  toward  the  great  room  where  sat  the  Sultan. 
"And  thou  shalt  bide  thy  time  to  enter — for  there  be 
many  with  him.  Also  would  I  counsel  that  thy  message 
be  brief  and  thy  speech  soft — for  much  hath  disturbed 
the  royal  mind  and  it  is  speedy  to  anger." 

Attar  made  no  answer,  and  the  slave  spoke  again : 

"Certain  Franks  bearing  messages  of  import  from 
their  own  country  be  with  him  even  now " 


150  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Franks,  sayest  thou?"  questioned  Attar,  for  at  the 
time  there  was  an  unnamed  trouble  seething  in  Islam 
against  the  Franks. 

"Yea,  and  the  air  which  bloweth  from  the  inner 
court  smelleth  of  much  controversy,"  answered  the 
enunch. 

As  they  waited  beyond  the  last  door,  Attar  found  that 
it  was  as  Babek  had  said.  Those  who  passed  out  wore 
the  garments  of  mystery.  No  word  spoke  any,  yet  about 
the  calmest  Moor  or  Arab  or  Berber  that  issued  from 
the  shadow  beyond  was  the  odor  of  war. 

Suddenly  the  curtains  were  held  wide  and  two  men 
issued  therefrom — both  Roumis. 

"The  Franks !"  passed  in  subdued  speech  from  lip  to 
lip.  One  of  the  men  was  smaller  than  the  least  among 
those  that  waited,  and  the  faces  of  both  were  dark 
with  anger.  The  brow  of  the  older  Frank  was  crimson, 
and  though  the  air  was  chill,  he  sweated  great  drops,  so 
wroth  was  he  with  the  happenings  within.  As  he  drew 
his  kerchief  forth,  it  fell  upon  the  tiled  floor  near  the 
feet  of  Attar. 

The  Moslem  did  not  stoop  to  lift  it;  but  another — 
also  a  man  of  princely  figure — clad  in  costly  silk  and 
wearing  a  head-covering  of  distinction,  sprang  to  restore 
the  piece  of  linen.  For  all  his  princely  trappings,  the 
Moor  bent  low  as  he  proffered  the  kerchief  and  smiled 
as  if  to  gain  favor. 

But  the  Frank  took  it  without  giving  thanks,  and 
went  on  his  way  muttering  a  curse  upon  Islam  with 
scant  care  that  it  should  not  be  heard.  Attar  followed. 

"I  heard  thee  but  faintly,"  he  said,  standing  in  the 
path  of  the  Frank,  "and  perchance  my  ear  hath  deceived 
me — perchance  thou  hast  but  cursed  thine  own  im- 


ATTAR'S  HOUR  OF  DECISION  151 

patience;  yet  had  thy  words  a  different  seeming — a 
seeming  of  dangerous  import,"  he  added,  and  his  eyes 
grew  dark,  "if  spoken  within  the  ear  of  a  true  believer." 

The  Frank,  a  man  of  valor  who  feared  not  the  num- 
bers of  Islam,  so  clothed  was  he  with  the  dignity  of  his 
country  or  he  had  not  carried  such  word  to  the  Sultan 
as  he  had  brought,  was  about  to  repeat  the  oath  when  he 
paused  with  the  words  upon  his  lips.  There  was  that 
in  the  blue-black  eyes  of  the  Moslem  which  made  him, 
for  a  moment,  doubt  the  easy  conquest  of  Tunisia  and 
the  Moors ;  still  Attar  waited  with  unwavering  calmness 
that  had  in  it  more  of  demand  than  any  show  of  power. 

The  Frank's  wrath  died.  Anger  is  but  a  lash  for 
slaves;  he  was  himself  a  brave  man,  and  he  read  the 
fearlessness  of  the  Moslem  before  him. 

"Thou  art  right,  O  sheik,"  he  said  with  a  greater 
courtesy  than  he  had  shown  the  Sultan. 

Still  Attar  waited. 

"Thou  art  a  loyal  subject,"  spoke  the  Frank  again, 
"and  now  suffer  me  to  go  my  way." 

"First,  O  noble  stranger,  would  I  hear  thy  words 
again,  that  mine  ear  may  be  sure  of  their  meaning; 
for  I  would  crave  thy  pardon  for  having  suspected  aught 
of  blasphemy  from  thy  honorable  lips." 

The  Frank  laughed  joylessly;  then,  replacing  the 
kerchief  in  his  garments,  said  quickly,  as  if  he  liked  not 
the  taste  of  the  words : 

"I  but  cursed  mine  own  impatience,  O  sheik." 

"It  is  well,"  returned  Attar;  "I  crave  thy  pardon 
with  my  forehead  in  the  dust;"  and  he  stepped  aside 
that  the  Frank  might  pass. 

Within,  a  brave-seeming  court  stood  about  the  Sultan, 
strong,  long-limbed  Moslems,  bravely  clad  in  colors  of 


152  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

pride  and  courage,  in  silks  and  brocades  and  em- 
broideries, and  wearing  jewels  that  bespoke  much 
substance. 

The  Sultan  wore  a  brooding  look,  as  if  he  saw  that 
beyond  the  shadows  which  caused  him  grave  displeasure 
nigh  unto  fear.  Those  near  the  divan  whereon  he  re- 
clined spoke  soft  words,  praising  his  wisdom  and 
princely  courage.  But  he  answered  them  not. 

They  numbered  over  the  strength  of  Tunisia  and 
Maroc  and  the  desert  cities  that  called  him  Sultan,  and 
strove  yith  jest  and  honeyed  words  to  banish  his 
concern. 

"Waste  not  thy  quick  youth  in  brooding;  naught  but 
sorcery  may  overcome  thee ;"  and :  "What  is  written  is 
written,"  they  counseled  in  differing  words,  but  he  an- 
swered them  not. 

"The  Roumis  have  disturbed  the  serenity  of  thy  noble 
mind,  O  most  gracious  Commander  of  the  Faithful/' 
said  one  who  had  his  ear.  "Let  there  be  music — give 
word  that  the  dancing  girls  be  brought  forth  to  charm 
thy  gray  moments.  Babek — thou  Babek !"  he  called,  as 
he  saw  the  great  eunuch  leaning  near  the  door. 

The  moment  the  eunuch  had  waited  for  was  come, 
and  he  approached  those  about  the  Sultan,  and  spoke 
into  the  ear  of  a  sheik  who  was  older  than  the  rest. 
From  lip  to  lip  the  word  passed : 

"Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen,"  said  the  Sultan 
slowly,  when  the  word  had  been  repeated  to  him. 
"Whence  coineth  he?  The  name  is  not  unknown  to 
mine  ear,  yet  do  I  not  recall  where  it  hath  fitted  into  the 
royal  pattern." 

"He  is  the  Moslem  to  whom  thou  didst  offer  princely 
holdings  for  the  Prophetess  Jeppa,"  said  Haroun,  the 


ATTAR'S  HOUR  OF  DECISION  153 

scribe  who  had  written  to  Attar.      "Wilt  thou  have 
speech  with  him  ?" 

"Nay,"  said  the  Sultan,  suddenly  remembering,  "give 
unto  him  whatever  he  asketh  of  the  things  thou  hast  set 
forth  in  the  letter  and  send  him  hence — for  the  sound 
of  his  name  bringeth  a  great  sadness  upon  me." 

And  the  scribe  went  to  Attar  and  told  him  of  the 
words  of  the  commander  of  the  faithful.  But  the  scribe 
returned  right  speedily,  bringing  words  that  the  Moslem 
accepted  not  the  gifts  for  that  he  would  not  have  given 
his  wife. 

When  the  Sultan  heard  this,  he  was  wroth,  and  had 
Attar  brought  close  and  questioned  him,  as  if  disbe- 
lieving the  words  of  the  scribe. 

"Attar  al  Hassen,"  he  cried,  "answer  an  thou  valuest 
thy  life  and  the  favor  of  thy  Sultan :  An  thy  wife  had 
lived,  wouldst  thou  not  have  made  her  a  gift  to  the  royal 
•harem  ?" 

And  Al  Hassen  made  answer : 

"She  was  my  wife — unto  no  man  would  I  have  given 
her." 

Amazement  alone  restrained  the  Sultan's  words.  At- 
tar's eyes  gazed  into  his  without  a  tremor. 

"Thou  didst  ask  for  the  truth,  O  Mighty  Sultan !  I 
would  not  have  given  her  unto  thee." 

For  the  space  of  a  moment  the  royal  glance  had  well- 
nigh  withered  him  where  he  stood. 

"First  am  I  defied  of  the  Franks,"  cried  the  Sultan 
in  hot  wrath,  "and  within  the  hour  doth  a  Moslem  ques- 
tion my  favor.  An  the  woman  were  living  thy  madness 
were  explained — perchance  forgiven.  But  seeing  thou 
hast  naught  to  gain,  why  troublest  thou  me  ?" 

Attar  would  have  spoken,  but  the  other  would  not 


154  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

suffer  him.  He  was  in  a  dark  mood.  His  anger  had 
grown  for  days,  and  those  that  waited  about  scarce 
breathed  till  he  should  pronounce  punishment  upon  the 
man  who  had  set  the  torch  of  ill-chosen  words  to  the  fuel 
that  lay  ready  for  the  flame. 

Attar  alone  gazed  calm  and  unafraid  into  the  eyes 
of  the  Sultan.  This  but  fanned  the  ruler's  anger, 
though  he  still  sought  to  preserve  a  princely  mien. 

"Thou  shalt  go  forth,  Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen," 
he  said  after  a  pause;  "thou  shalt  go  forth  in  poverty 
as  thou  hast  chosen.  But  come  not  back.  Tunisia  hath 
but  scant  need  for  such  as  thee." 

Then,  his  anger  rising  beyond  the  power  of  his  con- 
trol, he  cried: 

"Hence !    Hence !    Offend  mine  ears  no  more." 

And  Attar,  being  satisfied  that  the  commander  of  the 
faithful  knew  not  that  Aletra  lived,  bowed  his  head  and 
went  quickly  from  the  royal  presence. 

Then  Babek  bent  swiftly  and  spoke  into  the  Sultan's 
ear,  and  told  him  of  that  which  had  happened  in  the 
outer  court.  The  ruler  could  scarce  believe  his  words; 
but  when  others  vouched  for  them — the  story  having 
wafted  into  the  great  room — he  bade  a  slave  go  quickly 
and  bring  Attar  again  before  him — for  the  happening 
was  a  great  draft  to  his  pride,  and  he  was  greatly 
pleased  that  the  Frank  had  been  thus  humbled  even  be- 
fore those  of  Islam  by  a  common  man.  When  Attar  was 
come,  he  questioned  him. 

"Why  hast  thou  done  this  thing  unto  the  Frank,  O 
Al  Hassen  ?" 

And  Attar  answered  simply: 
•    "Naught  else  was  there  to  do." 

And  again  he  looked  calmly,  without  fear,  yet  with- 


ATTAB'S  HOUR  OF  DECISION  155 

out  pleasure,  into  the  royal  eyes,  though  the  Sultan  now 
smiled  upon  him. 

"Thou  art  an  honest  man,"  cried  the  commander  of 
the  faithful.  "Would  that  Islam  had  more  like  unto 
thee." 

Then  suddenly  he  asked:  "What  thinkest  thou  of 
the  danger  of  the  Frank?  Thinkest  thou  it  is  but  a 
wind  that  bloweth  over  the  country?" 

"That  know  I  not,  0  Sultan!  Yet  were  it  safe  to 
make  the  tents  secure  when  the  wind  bloweth." 

"Thou  hast  spoken.  And  for  thy  words,  which  chime 
with  mine  own  thoughts,  and  for  what  thou  hast  done 
to  an  enemy  of  Islam,  will  I  make  thee  the  bearer  of 
my  answer  to  the  Franks  which  has  been  promised 
within  the  moon. 

"Thou  art  he  for  whom  I  have  sought — an  incor- 
ruptible man.  Thou  shalt  bide  in  the  seraglio  as  one 
invested  with  high  office.  Await  my  summons,"  he  said, 
rising,  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  turned  to 
Babek  and  ordered: 

"Pick  from  the  fairest  a  dozen  slaves  to  minister  to 
the  Sheik  al  Hassen,  and  conduct  him  to  the  part  of  the 
palace  where  were  lodged  the  recently  departed  guests 
from  Persia.  Also  for  his  pleasure  bring  Azalia,  the 
Greek,  and  Zittarra,  the  Kabylian. 

"Thus  do  I  reward  thee,  O  Attar  al  Hassen,  for 
speaking  the  truth  without  fear  or  greed.  Both  of  these 
— my  wives  in  the  royal  harem  that  I  bestow  upon  thee 
— are  beautiful." 

Attar  strove  to  speak  without  interrupting  the  Sultan, 
but  the  other  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 

"Forget  thy  Jeppa,  who  is  now  in  paradise,  in  the 
smiles  of  living  lips." 


156  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

And  before  Attar  could  speak,  he  gathered  his  shim- 
mering robes  about  him  and,  moving  toward  the  corri- 
dor, disappeared  among  the  waiting  slaves. 

When  he  had  gone,  Babek  led  Al  Hassen  into  the 
great  outer  court,  with  its  fountains  and  carvings  and 
tiles  and  rugs,  the  same  that  Aletra  had  entered  the 
day  she  left  the  seraglio,  but  Attar  saw  nothing  of  its 
beauty  and  splendor,  nor  thought  of  the  favor  that  had 
befallen  him,  except  insofar  as  it  increased  his  trouble. 

"Thou  hast  well-nigh  destroyed  thyself,"  said  Babek, 
"but  in  the  moment  art  thou  a  great  man.  I  can  see 
that  if  thou  art  wise  thou  wilt  be  greater  than  any  in 
the  seraglio." 

"Who  hath  brought  thee  word  that  she  hath  been 
stricken  of  the  plague  and  perished  ?"  asked  Attar,  not 
heeding  the  eunuch's  words. 

"So  important  was  the  mission  that  I  trusted  none, 
but  went  myself  to  thine  house." 

"And  whom  didst  thou  have  speech  with?" 

"There  were  none  within,  but  all  that  lived  near  gave 
unto  me  word  that  Jeppa  had  perished  of  the  plague, 
and  bade  me  fare  to  the  cemetery  if  I  believed  not,  and 
I  went  and  found  that  Jeppa  rested  there." 

Attar  would  not  tell  him  of  the  difference  in  the 
women,  lest  the  other  renew  his  quest  to  gain  the  favor 
of  his  royal  master ;  yet  he  wished  for  some  small  word 
that  Aletra  might  have  said  concerning  him,  and  asked : 

"Hadst  thou  speech  with — Jeppa  ?" 

"Yea,"  answered  Babek. 

"Hath  she  given  thee  any  word  or  command  ?" 

"Yea,"  again  the  other  answered. 

"And  that  word  ?"  urged  Attar  hungrily. 

"When  she  fared  forth,  I  was  loath  to  have  the  great 


ATTAR'S  HOUR  OF  DECISION  157 

gate  opened  till  I  should  have  some  word  from  the 
master;  and  in  her  impatience  she  said  unto  me:  'An 
thou  wouldst  have  a  fair  life  when  I  return,  open  thou 
speedily  and  obey  my  commands.' ' 

"Said  she  so  ?"  asked  Attar  in  alarm,  looking  search- 
ingly  at  Babek. 

"Even  so,"  answered  the  slave,  and  there  was  an  air 
of  truth  about  his  words. 

In  the  hour  that  followed,  when  he  was  alone  in  that 
part  of  the  seraglio  given  over  to  him,  he  was  sore 
troubled  at  the  words  Babek  had  spoken,  and  doubt, 
colder  than  the  chill  of  a  desert  night,  crept  about  his 
heart — doubt  of  Aletra.  Then,  as  if  a  door  had  been 
opened  into  the  outer  world,  he  heard  the  voice  of  this 
world : 

"Why  dost  thou  hesitate  to  live  the  life  thou  hast 
ever  lived,  and  that  thy  fathers  have  lived  before  thee  ? 
Why  takest  thou  not  the  land  and  the  camels,  the  gold 
and  the  silk  stuffs — and  the  wives?" 

The  odor  of  flowers  and  burning  incense  filled  the 
room.  And,  as  he  thought,  a  woman's  silken  scarf  was 
cast  upon  the  divan  near  him. 

Lifting  his  gaze  he  saw  a  girl  of  great  beauty.  She 
was  unveiled,  and  her  eyes  were  red  from  weeping. 
His  heart  was  kindly,  and  the  sight  of  a  woman  in  tears 
was  ever  a  painful  one  to  him,  so  he  sought  to  comfort 
her,  thinking  she,  perchance,  had  displeased  the 
favorite. 

"Thy  mistress  hath  been  wroth  with  thee  ?"  he  began, 
and  waited  for  an  answer. 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  spoke  again : 

"Dry  thine  eyes  and  fear  not,  for  thou  lookest  a  fair 
damsel  and  good." 


158  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

The  girl  continued  to  regard  him,  but  still  answered 
not,  though  she  seemed  indignant  in  her  bearing,  and 
the  flash  of  her  steady,  black  eyes  reproached  him. 

"Why  weepest  thou?     Answer." 

"I  weep  not,"  she  said  in  idiomatic  Arabic. 

"Why  hast  thou  wept,  then?  Wouldst  thou  aught 
of  me?" 

"Naught,"  she  answered,  still  looking  upon  him  with 
eyes  of  unwinking  brilliancy. 

"Who  art  thou?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"Thy  wife,  Azalia,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice. 

"Nay,"  he  returned,  "I  have  no  such  wife.  Aletra  is 
the  name  of  my  wife." 

"The  royal  master  hath  but  just  given  me  to  thee. 
Within  the  hour  hath  Babek  conducted  me  hither. 
Therefore  weep  I  that  I  must  fare  from  the  seraglio." 

"Thou  needst  not,  perchance,"  he  answered,  with 
knitted  brows,  for  he  had  thought  the  Sultan  would 
have  called  him  into  his  presence  again  before  he  gave 
him  all  of  that  which  he  had  promised.  Then  would  he 
have  told  him  that  he  was  not  of  a  willing  heart  to  take 
unto  himself  more  wives  until  he  had  mourned  for  those 
he  had  lost. 

The  girl  still  stood  before  him,  and  thinking  that  he 
had  taken  her  explanation  of  her  tears  as  a  token  that 
she  liked  him  not,  she  hastened  to  speak,  for  the  sight 
of  so  well-made  a  man  went  far  to  comfort  the  wild 
weeping  that  Babek  had  threatened  to  chastise  her  for. 

"Nay,"  she  said,  "I  wept  that  I  feared  that  thou 
wouldst  have  been  ill-favored.  Now  that  mine  eyes 
behold  thee  I  am  content." 

He  seemed  not  to  hear  her;  and,  thinking  that  he 
was  still  displeased  with  her  words  about  leaving  the 


ATTAR'S  HOUR  OF  DECISION  159 

seraglio,  she  came  closer,  cast  her  gay  silken  scarf  aside 
and  looked  into  his  eyes,  smiling. 

The  smile  changed  her  face,  her  eyes  seeming  to  be  a 
part  of  it.  It  was  as  if  through  a  floating  mass  of 
smoke,  a  pale  flame  had  leaped,  casting  a  burnished 
glow  and  warming  all  it  touched.  The  strange  power 
that  slumbers  in  the  great  eyes  of  the  Oriental  was  in- 
tensified, concentrated  in  the  smile. 

He  felt,  as  he  looked  upon  her,  that  in  some  way  she 
represented  Islam,  represented  woman  as  the  Moslem 
comprehends  her. 

All  that  had  once  been  to  him  was  wakened  by  her 
smile,  which  fell  about  him  as  a  cloak  of  some  bright- 
hued  fabric.  After  a  moment,  and  while  he  was  still 
looking  into  her  eyes,  they  wavered,  rose  again  to  meet 
his,  then  with  a  fluttering  the  heavy  lids  covered  them. 
She  turned  away  and  sighed. 

Unconsciously  he  took  a  step  forward.  Her  pose, 
meditative  in  its  outward  seeming,  was  still  subtly  in- 
tense and  alluring.  An  indefinite,  feminine  aura  sur- 
rounded her.  The  look  of  her  eyes,  though  red  with 
weeping ;  the  slight  droop  of  the  full,  softly  molded  lips, 
the  splendid  head,  all  were  parts  of  an  untamed,  primi- 
tive, magnificent  being  subdued  by  the  great,  dominat- 
ing, major  force  of  elemental  nature. 

As  he  did  not  come  nearer  nor  speak,  she  raised  her 
eyes  again.  They  were  not  the  eyes  of  a  woman,  but 
of  woman — the  woman  of  the  East.  In  their  depths  he 
dimly  read  the  Moslem  creed,  the  Spirit  of  the  Harem, 
the  traditions  of  his  life,  and  he  felt  that  his  hour  of 
decision  had  come. 

As  he  wavered,  a  lute  girl  who  waited  beyond  the 


160  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

inner  curtain  sent  out  quivering,  silvery  notes  into  the 
dusk.    The  frail  strain  came  through  the  silken  curtain : 

"The  bulbul  wanders  to  and  fro " 

The  words  of  the  song  were  those  Aletra  had  sung 
the  night  before  his  departure.  He  listened  intently, 
his  arms  half  extended  toward  Azalia — listened  as  if  he 
heard  something  from  afar.  She  waited — the  woman's 
look  of  invitation  still  in  her  eyes.  But  even  as  he 
gazed  upon  her  she  seemed  to  him  farther  away.  She 
sang: 

"His  wind  is  weak,  his  note  is  low." 

The  eyes  into  which  his  looked  were  loosing  their 
spell— 

"In  vain  he  makes  his  song. 
Since  she  he  wooed  so  long 

No  more  sheds  perfume  on  the  air  around." 

As  he  listened  the  presence  of  woman  faded  at  the 
distant  faint  call  of  memory — memory  of  a  woman. 
He  still  looked  upon  Azalia,  beholding  her  not,  till  the 
lute  girl's  song  was  stilled  by  the  prayer  of  Ashr',  the 
sunset  call:  "Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!  Allah  hu  Ak  Bar! 
Allah  hu  Ak  Bar!" 

Attar  prostrated  himself,  but  even  while  he  prayed, 
he  thought  of  his  tryst  in  the  court  of  the  mosque  and 
reproached  himself,  and  when  the  prayer  had  ceased,  he 
rose,  and  turning,  left  the  perfumed  promises  of  Islam 
without  looking  further  upon  the  woman,  for  he  knew 
that  his  hour  of  decision  had  come  and  gone. 


CHAPTEE   XIX 

ON  THE  KIM  OF  THE  DESERT 

RAMON  and  the  Sheik  Saoud  waited  in  the  court  of 
the  mosque  beside  the  palace  for  some  time.  It  was 
nearing  the  evening-call,  and  Attar  had  said  he  would 
meet  them  an  hour  before.  But  as  the  time  passed,  the 
Wizard  became  impatient  and  rose  from  his  half  re- 
clining position. 

"I  will  go  hence  and  look  after  my  serpents,"  he  said, 
and  he  withdrew,  leaving  the  sheik  to  wait  alone. 

And  when  he  reached  his  lodgings,  he  brought  forth 
the  reptiles.  There  were  many,  some  small,  and  of 
bright  colors,  that  he  sometimes  wound  about  his  arm ; 
a  very  young  python,  and  the  cobra  that  he  had  charmed 
the  day  before. 

First  he  lifted  the  small  ones  and  played  with  them 
as  one  would  with  a  young  dog,  speaking  the  while  as  is 
the  habit  of  those  who  have  lived  much  alone  with 
nature.  The  language  was  not  Arabic  nor  Bengalese, 
but  was  more  like  the  Hindu,  and  resembled  an  incanta- 
tion, yet  was  not  one.  It  was  the  tongue  of  his  unrest, 
the  voice  of  the  unwalled  wilderness  that  had  become  a 
part  of  him. 

"The  fool,"  he  said,  "to  tarry  in  the  shadow  of  the 
seraglio!  He  hath  a  great  frame  and  the  wit  of  a 
camel." 

161 


162  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

Unrest  and  vexation  were  strong  upon  him,  but  his 
life  with  the  adepts  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains 
had  taught  him  that  it  was  impossible  for  one  to  con- 
trol others  unless  he  first  control  himself,  and  he  felt 
the  need  of  such  action  as  would  mean  concentration. 

With  a  firm  touch  he  opened  the  basket  that  held  the 
naga. 

"Come  forth,"  he  said,  "and  save  thy  master's  reason, 
for  he  hath  much  need  of  it." 

The  serpent  had  not  been  fed  recently  and  was  rest- 
less and  eager  to  leave  the  nestlike  abode.  As  it 
stretched  upon  the  floor,  the  iTindu  attracted  its  atten- 
tion and  it  prepared  to  strike.  He  evaded  the  thrust 
and  waved  his  hand  threateningly  to  provoke  its  anger. 
So,  for  many  minutes,  he  played  with  danger,  every 
thought,  action,  and  impulse  under  command.  It  was  a 
game  of  death;  he  staked  his  life  again  and  again  on 
his  skill. 

"Once  more,"  he  said  to  the  cobra,  when  he  had  tired 
of  his  sport,  "once  more  hast  thou  preserved  thy  master 
from  madness." 

And  he  placed  the  serpent  again  in  security,  wrapped 
his  mantle  about  him  and  went  back  to  the  court  of 
the  mosque.  Attar  came  within  the  moment. 

"Hast  thou  found  her  whom  thou  didst  seek  ?"  asked 
Saoud  eagerly. 

"Nay.  The  Sultan  believeth  in  truth  that  she  has 
perished,  as  also  doth  Babek,  nor  would  I  tell  them  of 
my  hope.  But  much  trouble  hath  befallen  me :  the  Sul- 
tan hath  given  me  all  the  goods  set  forth  in  his  letter — 
and  also  hath  he  given  me  two  wives." 

"This  is  thy  sorrow?"  asked  Ramon,  while  the  old 
sheik  looked  well  pleased. 


163 

"Even  this,"  answered  Attar.  "But  let  us  go  into  a 
place  of  greater  secrecy.  Much  hath  befallen  that  I 
would  tell  unto  thee." 

As  they  fared  from  the  court  of  the  mosque,  they 
came  upon  David,  the  young  Jewish  Arab  whom  Attar 
had  sought  the  day  before.  Ramon  questioned  him : 

"Dost  thou,  O  David,  remember  the  boy  Selim  from 
Tunis — the  one  who  had  the  lame  camel  that  thou 
didst  try  to  heal  in  the  desert  ?" 

"Yea,"  answered  the  Jew. 

"Of  whose  house  was  he  ?" 

"Of  the  house  of  Al  Hassen.  Selim  abu  Yoseph  al 
Hassen  was  he  called." 

"Hath  he  fared  alone  on  his  journey?  How  many 
numbered  he  in  his  caravan?" 

"There  was  but  a  single  camel,"  returned  the  man. 
"He  but  journeyed  for  merchandise  to  Biskra." 

"Knowest  thou  this  of  a  certainty  ?" 

"Yea.  None  were  with  him  but  his  two  wives,  and 
he  journeyed  to  the  Village  of  the  Weavers,  where  dwell 
his  kinsmen." 

Attar  sought  to  question  him  also,  but  the  Hindu  re- 
strained him  by  a  quick  touch  upon  his  garment.  And 
when  Ramon  had  questioned  the  Jew  concerning  his 
abode  they  let  him  go  upon  his  way.  Attar  would 
follow. 

"Calm  thine  impatience,"  cautioned  the  Hindu.  As 
he  spoke,  he  drew  them  into  a  shadowed  niche  that  they 
might  take  counsel  together. 

"Thou  hast  not  questioned  where  he  hath  seen  Selim 
in  the  desert,"  said  Attar,  still  looking  after  the  boy. 

"  'Twas  but  a  short  way  from  the  Tombouctu  road. 
He  was  beneath  my  eye,  yet  knew  I  not  how  many  were 


164  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

in  his  caravan,  for  he  came  alone  to  our  tents,"  answered 
Ramon. 

And  Attar  would  journey  straightway  upon  the  road 
to  Tombouctu.  Nor  thought  he  of  the  displeasure  of  the 
Sultan  if  it  be  found  that  he  was  not  in  the  seraglio. 
And  it  was  with  difficulty  that  Saoud  and  Ramon  drew 
from  his  lips  the  happenings  of  the  day. 

The  old  sheik  besought  him  to  take  the  gifts  the 
Sultan  had  bestowed  and  also  the  wives,  and  wait  word 
from  Selim ;  but  the  younger  man  would  not  heed  him. 
The  Hindu  saw  that  security  lay  in  distance — distance 
from  the  seraglio  and  the  royal  master,  and  when  he 
had  thought  deeply  he  questioned: 

"When  wouldst  thou  begin  thy  journey?  For  thou 
knowest  that  if  she  be  in  hiding,  to  none  other  than  thee 
will  she  discover  herself." 

"Yea,"  returned  Attar,  "I  would  go  hence  in  the 
night  that  I  may  not  be  held  and  punished  for  base 
ingratitude." 

Ramon  dissented  scornfully. 

"Truth  is  there  in  the  words  that  'A  great  body  hath 
scant  wit.'  Thinkest  thou  to  escape  the  eye  of  the  Sul- 
tan ?"  he  asked  impatiently. 

"Seest  thou  another  way  ?" 

"Yea;  let  the  Sultan  send  thee  forth.  Leave  thou 
thy  perplexity  to  me,  and  make  ready  for  thy  journey. 
I,  too,  fare  toward  the  desert,  by  the  sunrise  call  to 
prayer,  and  will  go  with  thee  along  much  of  thy  way." 

"How  dost  thou  think  to  go  into  the  presence  of  the 
Sultan  and  get  his  will  to  send  me  hence  ?"  asked  Attar. 

Ramon  remembered  the  words  of  Hassen  al  Marmud, 
whose  child  he  had  saved  from  the  venom  of  the  ser- 
pent, but  he  answered  simply : 


ON"  THE  EIM  OF  THE  DESEET  165 

"An  I  stay  the  night  to  tell  thee,  I  had  no  time  to  go 
before  the  Sultan." 

"Yet : 

"Yet !  What  meanest  thou  ?  Have  not  I  given  thee 
word,  'Leave  the  Sultan  unto  me?'  If  thou  wouldst 
have  my  poor  services,  speak,  for  in  truth  my  path  lieth 
well  the  other  way  from  thine,  and  I  have  but  tarried 
the  day  to  help  thee.  If  I  can  serve  thee  not,  speak 
also  that  I  may  go  upon  my  way  quickly." 

"What  dost  thou  counsel?"  asked  Attar,  and  his  face 
was  troubled. 

For  answer  the  other  slowly  removed  his  burnoose 
and  seated  himself. 

"I  will  tell  thee  of  what  I  should  have  spoken,  had  I 
fared  to  the  seraglio  this  night,"  he  said  calmly. 

"Dost  thou  not  go  ?"  asked  Attar  in  alarm. 

"N~ay,  O  my  friend,"  he  answered,  "how  may  I  tarry 
to  tell  thee,  and  be  before  the  Sultan  also?  An  I  do 
the  one,  I  may  not  do  the  other,"  he  concluded. 

"Let  it  be  even  as  thou  sayest,"  said  the  Moslem  at 
last. 

"An  thou  hadst  such  reason  when  we  were  first  come 
here,  I  had  been  well  on  my  way,"  returned  the  Wizard 
reproachfully.  "I  will  meet  thee  an  hour  before  mid- 
night at  the  house  of  thy  kinsman." 

It  was  past  midnight  when  the  moon  had  set.  There 
were  but  a  few  hours  of  darkness  ahead  when  Ramon 
opened  the  door  softly  and  entered. 

"Allah  be  praised,"  cried  Attar,  and  clasped  him  in  a 
great  embrace. 

"All  is  in  readiness,"  said  the  Hindu.  "There  are 
good  horses  and  a  burden-bearing  camel — the  Sultan 


166  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

bids  the©  haste  with  all  speed  to  thy  son,  who  lieth  ill  in 
the  desert. 

"How  hast  thou  accomplished  this?"  asked  Attar. 

"Wilt  thou  that  we  bide  here  the  night  that  I  may 
tell  thee  ?"  Ramon  made  answer.  "For  an  thou  art  not 
again  in  Tunis  by  the  waning  of  the  next  moon,  neither 
riches,  nor  lands,  nor  rug  stuffs,  nor  camels,  nor  honor 
shall  be  thine.  In  truth,  all  wilt  thou  forfeit." 

"And  the  wives?" 

"Them  also  wilt  thou  forfeit." 

"It  is  well,"  answered  Attar,  breathing  deeply  as  if  a 
great  burden  had  been  taken  from  him,  and  they  went 
out  into  the  night. 

When  they  left  Tunis,  Attar  and  Ramon  rode  horses 
which  were  the  gift  of  the  Sultan.  Ramon's  two  Su- 
danese followed  with  the  gift-camel  and  those  that  be- 
longed to  Ramon,  the  beasts  being  laden  with  tents  and 
rugs  and  other  things  needful  for  the  journey. 

The  Wizard  had  taken  the  dove  with  him,  it  being 
helpless  and  trying  ever  to  pick  away  the  cords  that  held 
the  small  splints  in  place.  Attar  had  counseled  giving 
it  to  Idillah,  but  Ramon  objected,  saying  that  the  dove 
should  not  be  polluted  by  her  touch.  Then,  thinking 
of  the  dancing  girl's  words,  he  said  after  a  time: 

"Hast  ever  questioned  thyself  if  the  stain  that  forever 
clings  to  the  hand  of  a  woman  be  so  easily  cleansed  from 
that  of  a  man  ?" 

"Nay,"  returned  Ramon,  "never  have  I  questioned 
the  wisdom  of  the  most  great." 


CHAPTER    XX 

ALETEA   SHOWS    KEEN    WIT 

WHEN  Aletra  had  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
lepers  for  a  little  way  she  heard  a  great  confusion 
of  voices.  The  slaves  who  had  held  her  darted  into  the 
throng  on  either  side,  shouting  "In  the  name  of  the 
Sultan!"  and  lifting  such  veils  as  they  thought  might 
conceal  the  countenance  of  her  whom  they  sought. 

Steadfastly  she  followed  the  unclean — feigning  a 
halting  gait  which  made  her  seem  of  smaller  stature  and 
older,  though  it  is  ever  hard  to  determine  the  age  of  a 
haik-wrapped  woman  in  the  Orient,  so  completely  cov- 
ered is  her  body  as  well  as  her  face. 

The  older  slave  came  close,  and  fearing  that  he  mis- 
trusted her  she  carefully  covered  her  hand  and  extended 
it  for  alms.  A  moment  he  paused  in  fright,  then  be- 
stowed a  coin  upon  her  and  hastened  on  his  search. 

When  she  had  followed  the  lepers  some  distance  and 
was  come  near  to  the  cemeteries,  a  blind  man  besought 
that  some  one  lead  him,  for  he  had  none  of  his  own 
house  left  unto  him.  Aletra  paused  and  spoke  to 
the  man.  He  liked  well  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  as 
he  was  hidden  in  the  corner  of  a  wall,  she  sank  at  his 
feet  and  began  latching  his  shoes  as  might  a  daughter. 
And  he  had  much  gratitude  and  besought  her  services, 
saying: 

167 


168  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"I  would  fare  out  of  Tunis  by  nightfall  an  I  get  one 
to  go  with  me.  All  of  my  house  are  perished,  and  I 
would  return  to  mine  own  people;  for  I  am  not  of  this 
country,  as  thou  seest,  but  an  Egyptian,  a  Copt.  I 
have  such  substance  as  shall  take  me  on  my  journey 
and  leave  a  small  wage  for  one  to  minister  to  my  needs." 

"Desolation  also  encompasseth  my  house,"  said 
Aletra.  "I  alone  am  left.  I  fare  with  thee  right  will- 
ingly— an  I  go  as  thy  daughter,  no  other  way." 

To  this  the  man  agreed  and  took  her  to  his  abode. 
He  liked  well  her  voice,  but  he  asked  that  she  lift  her 
veil  and  suffer  him  to  read  the  lineaments  of  her  face 
with  his  hand,  and  when  he  had  done  this  he  was 
amazed  at  her  beauty. 

"Knowest  thou  not,"  he  said  in  a  troubled  voice, 
"that  safer  is  it  by  far  to  journey  with  a  jewel  of  price 
than  with  a  beautiful  woman  ?" 

Aletra  feared  he  would  not  take  her  thence,  but  took 
courage  as  he  spoke  again. 

"Yet  also  art  thou  a  good  woman,  and  a  good  woman 
is  ever  discreet."  Then  he  asked :  "Of  whose  house  art 
thou?" 

"Of  the  house  of  Najeb  Hafed  Harroun,  who  dwell- 
eth  afar,  nigh  unto  Beirut,  in  Syria,"  she  made  answer, 
but  she  told  him  not  that  her  father  had  been  bred  in 
Tunisia  and  that  he  that  dwelt  in  Beirut  was  but  a 
distant  kinsman  of  her  father's  whom  she  had  never 
seen. 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  Copt.  "I  am  of  the  house  of 
Zobel  Ben  Zewar,  and  since  those  of  nearest  kin  have 
perished  here  in  Tunis,  I  return  to  the  Land  of  Egypt 
where  dwell  my  people,  and  Egypt  lieth  nigh  unto  the 


ALETRA  SHOWS  KEEN  WIT  169 

country  thou  wouldst  reach,  an  thou  farest  to  thy  kins- 
man's house." 

"Of  a  truth  am  I  favored  of  Allah,"  said  Aletra,  and 
she  lifted  the  sleeve  of  the  man's  garment  to  her  lips. 

"How  art  thou  called,  my  daughter  ?"  he  asked. 

"How  was  thy  youngest  daughter  called  ?"  questioned 
Aletra. 

"Hagar,"  he  answered,  "her  mother  was  of  the 
Jews." 

"Then  call  thou  me  Hagar." 

"Thou  hast  wisdom,"  he  praised.  "Yet  hast  thou 
such  wisdom  as  to  ever  keep  thy  face  concealed  ?" 

"Yea,  O  my  father,"  she  answered,  "and  when  e'er 
I  unveil,  e'en  before  women  will  I  make  myself  so  ill- 
favored  that  none  will  ask  me  of  thee  for  their  sons  in 
marriage." 

"Wit  hast  thou  also,"  he  said,  and  a  goodly  smile 
broke  through  the  wrinkles  of  his  aged  face.  "Wit,  yea, 
and  wisdom,"  he  repeated,  "and  beauty,  and  something 
greater  than  these — that  thou  wouldst  protect  thy 
virtue." 

As  he  spoke  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head  in  bless- 
ing. Her  heart  was  filled  with  comfort  at  the  touch,  yet 
would  she  not  burden  him  with  her  secret.  Later,  when 
she  went  forth  to  buy  food,  he  said  again  as  he  put  coin 
in  her  hand : 

"Be  thou  discreet,  O  my  daughter,  and  suffer  not  the 
wind  to  trifle  with  thy  veil,  for  a  beautiful  woman  is 
more  dangerous  to  hold  than  a  jewel  of  price,  and  mine 
ear  craveth  the  sound  of  thy  voice  on  this  journey.  Thou 
seemest  but  a  child,  yet  thou  hast  the  rare  wisdom  of 


170 

And  she  assured  him  and  went  forth,  but  ever  she 
thought  of  his  words  and  of  the  great  sapphire  that  lay 
hidden  against  her  breast. 

As  she  came  near  to  the  bazaar,  the  seraglio  slaves 
tore  the  veils  from  women  who  stood  waiting.  But, 
before  any  had  seen  her,  she  turned  and  fled  back  to  the 
abode  of  Zobel. 

She  had  brought  with  her  only  flour,  and  lacked  many 
things;  but  as  she  came  before  her  door  an  Arab  boy 
besought  her  to  buy  five  eggs  which  he  held  in  the  corner 
of  his  small  burnoose,  and  she  was  glad,  and  took  them. 
As  she  prepared  the  fritters  Zobel  craved,  she  trembled 
so  that  her  hands  scarce  held  the  basins,  and  though 
in  the  security  of  the  walls  she  barkened  to  every  sound 
without. 

"Allah,  O  Allah,  preserve  thou  me  from  the  eyes  that 
watch/'  she  besought.  "Hear  me,  hear  me,  O  Allah, 
for  my  heart  fainteth  with  a  great  fear." 

As  she  broke  one  of  the  eggs  into  the  meal,  the  outer 
shell  went  into  fragments,  but  the  skin  beneath  it  held 
for  a  moment  like  parchment.  As  she  looked  upon  it,  a 
swift  memory  of  the  lepers  she  had  seen  but  on  hour 
past  smote  her,  and  suddenly  hope  sprang  in  her  heart. 

With  great  care  she  took  the  inner  lining  from  the 
shell  and  laid  it  upon  her  face  as  she  had  seen  her  mother 
lay  it  upon  a  hand  that  had  been  seared  by  the  fire,  and 
when  she  looked  upon  herself  she  shrank  with  fright, 
even  in  the  moment  that  she  rejoiced ;  for  the  white  skin 
of  the  egg  clung  to  her  features  even  as  the  skin  cleaveth 
to  the  face  of  a  leper  till  there  was  no  spot  left  un- 
covered. 

She  told  Zobel  naught   of  this,   for  he  would  be 


ALETRA  SHOWS  KEEN  WIT  171 

loath  to  have  the  people  cry  "Unclean,"  and  refuse  to 
harbor  them.  But  she  took  great  care  to  draw  her  veil 
closely  even  when  speaking  to  the  women  in  the  house 
and  in  the  bazaar,  whither  she  fared  again  to  buy 
things  needful  for  the  journey,  which  they  began  at 
nightfall. 

She  feared  for  Selini  and  Abla,  and  thought  to  pass 
her  own  door  as  they  left  the  city  and  leave  a  scroll  for 
the  boy.  This  she  prepared — a  script  bidding  him  not 
to  follow  her  and  saying  she  was  in  safety,  but  when 
she  was  come  before  the  door  of  her  own  abode,  she  saw 
him  and  Abla  standing  without,  and  beside  them  were 
the  two  slaves  that  had  torn  her  from  the  ship,  and  she 
feared  to  tarry  lest  they  suspect  her. 

Seeing  Abla  with  Selim  she  had  no  further  anxiety 
concerning  the  girl,  for  love,  she  knew,  groweth  even 
in  the  loam  of  death;  but  she  went  slowly  as  if  her 
burden  were  heavy,  that  she  might  hear  a  word  of  that 
which  was  spoken.  This  was  easy,  for  Abla  cried 
wildly : 

"Awah!  Awah!  have  I  not  told  these  that  my 
mistress  sped  swiftly  to  the  water's  edge  and,  without 
waiting,  sprang  into  the  sea !" 

Aletra  would  have  tarried;  but  Zobel,  missing  her 
from  his  side,  called  "Hagar,  Hagar,"  and,  fearing  lest 
her  voice  betray  both  her  and  Abla,  she  answered  not, 
but  hurried  her  steps,  and  taking  his  hand  led  him 
away  through  the  streets  of  the  city  till  they  came  to 
the  outer  edge. 

When  the  night  had  fallen,  they  were  beyond  Tunis 
and  their  faces  were  set  toward  the  desert,  which  re- 
vealeth  and  concealeth  many  things. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

WARNINGS  OF  THE  PARDONER^  WRATH 

PEACE  be  unto  thee." 
Ramon,  sitting  beside  a  palm  of  the  oasis,  raised 
his  eyes  to  the  Arab  who  spoke.    The  man  had  ridden  a 
swift  camel  and  now  came  toward  him,  unwinding  the 
scarf  of  his  cafia  and  taking  a  scroll  therefrom. 

"And  unto  thee,"  said  Ramon  in  response. 

"Allah  send  thee  good  tidings,"  said  the  Arab  as  he 
proffered  the  parchment.  Ramon  did  not  unfold  it,  but 
sought  to  read  the  nomad's  face.  Seeing  naught  written 
thereon  of  knowledge,  he  called  the  Sudanese  and  bade 
them  set  forth  food  and  drink  for  the  messenger. 

"Allah  increase  thee  a  thousand-fold,"  said  the  man 
as  he  followed  the  slaves.  The  gaze  of  the  Hindu  fol- 
lowed him,  seeking  to  read  from  tarboosh  or  burnoose 
the  station  of  the  man. 

The  camel  might  have  come  from  the  royal  cara- 
vansaries, and  he  relished  not  that  the  eyes  of  one  who 
served  the  Sultan  be  upon  him  while  he  read. 

For  days  the  little  caravan  had  journeyed  on  into  the 
desert,  sometimes  halting  near  nomad  camps,  some- 
times in  the  vast  plains  of  sand.  Once,  when  they 
were  about  eight  days  from  Tunis,  an  Arab  boy,  young 
enough  to  be  allowed  to  go  unnoticed  among  the  Moslem 
women  who  journey  in  the  desert,  furnished  the  de- 

172 


•WARNINGS  OF  THE  PARDONER'S  WRATH    173 

scription  of  a  beautiful  girl  and  told  of  her  traveling  in 
the  care  of  a  youth  called  Selim. 

On  hearing  this,  Attar  was  impatient  to  go  the  way 
this  Selim  and  the  woman  had  gone;  but  after  riding 
half  a  day,  when  they  had  come  upon  the  little  party, 
he  was  disappointed  to  find  that  his  quest  was  fruitless, 
the  youth  was  not  Selim,  and  the  girl  did  not  recognize 
him. 

Again  they  heard  of  a  woman  who  had  but  lately  been 
in  the  seraglio.  She  was  with  a  small  caravan,  but  when 
they  had  turned  aside  and  come  upon  the  camp,  they 
saw  by  the  glow  of  the  fire  that  the  woman  was  not 
Aletra ;  and  as  there  was  no  other  they  turned  back. 

Their  camels  were  swift,  but  they  made  slight  prog- 
ress in  their  journey.  As  each  clue  proved  a  mirage, 
the  Moslem's  words  were  fewer,  his  smile  became  rarer, 
and  his  face  held  a  deep  sadness  that  forbade  the  voice 
of  solace. 

Ramon  had  ridden  beside  him  more  often  than  be- 
fore ;  for  the  Hindu  had  the  gift  of  silence,  and  his  pres- 
ence soothed  the  heart.  But  they  had  been  wandering 
more  than  a  score  of  days,  and  must  needs  go  beyond 
the  sultanate  or  return,  an  the  Moslem  should  be  safe. 

ISTow  that  no  eye  was  upon  him,  the  Wizard  broke  the 
seal  and  unfolded  the  parchment.  He  read : 

Peace  be  unto  thee,  O  Ramon  the  Unknowable.  The  scroll 
setting  forth  the  way  thy  quest  fareth  hath  come  to  me. 
Yet  word  from  me  canst  thou  not  expect.  Thy  serpents 
would  be  kinder  than  I  were  I  so  near  as  they.  I  write 
now  for  the  reason  that  what  Allah  hath  denied  thee  in  the 
token  of  a  loving  heart,  lie  hath  given  thee  doubly  in  wit. 

I  had  not  dared  to  set  this  before  the  eyes  of  him  who  is 
with  thee,  but  I  know  that  thou  wilt  be  beside  him,  that 


174  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

thou  wilt  endure  to  the  end,  thinking  thy  unutterable 
thoughts,  but  silent.  And  it  is  because  of  this  silence  that 
I  write  thee,  and  thou  wilt  see  by  these  words  that  I  have 
trusted  thee,  even  with  the  things  that  concern  mine  own 
life.  Therefore  seek  solitude  when  thou  readest  and  tell 
none  of  the  import  of  my  words. 

How  the  knowledge  here  set  forth  hath  come  to  me  I  need 
not  tell  thee,  but  the  truth  of  Allah  is  in  my  words,  therefore 
give  heed. 

Have  a  care  for  the  life  of  him  who  is  with  thee,  for  danger 
threateneth  also  in  the  dunes.  The  Pardoner,  the  Highest, 
hath  been  in  hot  wrath,  and  he  who  looketh  to  his  pleasure 
hath  fared  from  Tunis  with  camels  and  trappings  of  a  mer- 
chant. But  the  beasts  are  from  the  royal  caravansaries  and 
one  beareth  a  bassourah  with  silken  lining — an  empty  bas- 
sourah — and  lesser  slaves  have  questioned  concerning  the 
way  of  the  Moslem  with  the  golden  beard. 

Thy  footsteps  are  followed  and  the  shadow  of  thy  camels 
are  spied  upon.  Thou  canst  not  hold  the  woman  from  the 
royal  lips,  but  thou  hast  wit  to  preserve  the  Moslem  who 
would  destroy  himself  for  a  dream. 

I  will  continue  to  bide  in  the  shelter  of  my  kinsman's 
harem,  whither  I  have  gone  from  the  Street  of  the  Dancers, 
an  thou  wouldst  write.  Yet  would  I  counsel  thee  to  send 
no  word  lest  it  betray  thy  quest,  which  Allah  protect. 

Salaama. 

SHE  WHO  DANCED  BEFORE  THEE  THY  LAST   NIGHT  IN   TUNIS 

When  Ramon  had  read  this  lengthy  epistle,  he  said 
naught  to  Attar  about  it,  but  hid  the  letter  in  his 
burnoose. 

"For,"  he  thought,  "destruction  awaiteth  him  if  lie 
measure  his  strength  with  the  power  of  the  Sultan,  and 
in  the  silence  of  the  desert  is  safety,  and  even  peace 
cometh  there  on  the  wings  of  time." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  LOVE  OF  THE  SERPENT  CHAKMEE 

IT  was  night  in  the  Sahara,  before  the  rising  of  a  late 
moon.    Ramon  and  Attar  sat  in  the  shelter  of  a  great 
dune,  for  it  was  cold,  and  the  fire  but  smoldered. 

Neither  spoke;  but,  though  the  night  was  young, 
they  drew  their  fur  garments  close  and  held  their 
burnooses  tightly  about  their  faces.  For  the  breath  of 
the  desert  night  is  like  the  coldness  of  a  woman  who 
realizes  that  she  has  smiled  too  warmly  in  an  earlier 
hour;  following  closely  upon  the  quivering  heat  of  the 
shadowless  golden  day,  the  leaden  cold  of  the  sand 
wilderness  is  doubly  felt. 

Two  Sudanese  were  on  their  way  to  a  merrymaking 
before  the  fires  of  a  great  caravan  that  rested  not  far 
away. 

As  they  passed,  their  voices  came  faintly  on  the  clear 
air.  Ratani,  the  older  one,  was  singing.  The  melan- 
choly of  his  minor  tones  was  echoed  at  intervals  by  the 
notes  of  a  flute — reedlike,  mellow,  haunting,  limpid — as 
if  the  sighs  of  love  and  sorrow  and  desire  had  trembled 
over  the  strings  of  a  human  heart  and  melted  into  one 
another. 

The  melody  was  for  the  singer's  best-loved  wife,  who, 
through  the  compassion  of  Allah,  the  Most  Great, 
awaited  him  at  the  gates  of  paradise. 

175 


176  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

And,  though  he  embellished  and  changed  the  song 
with  each  repetition,  it  held  ever  that  strange  com- 
mingling of  asceticism,  spiritual  adoration,  and  sensu- 
ous entreaty  that  distinguishes  the  love-songs  of  the 
East  from  all  others.  It  may  not  have  reached  the  ever- 
listening  ear  of  the  houri  at  the  gates  of  the  blest  abode, 
but  the  woman  who  heard  it — the  woman  before  the 
fires  of  the  scattered  nomad  tents  in  the  Sahara  night 
— sighed. 

The  sound  of  the  flute  swelled  or  diminished  as  the 
player  rose  upon  a  dune  or  sank  in  the  deep  hollows,  till 
it  grew  faint  and  was  lost  in  the  distance,  echoing  only 
at  intervals,  like  a  silver  thread  of  sound,  in  the  fancies 
of  those  who  had  listened. 

Ramon  rose  and  threw  some  fresh  fagots  upon  the 
smoldering  fire,  first  gathering  the  half-burned  pieces 
into  a  pyramid ;  then  he  returned  to  his  place  beside  the 
Moslem.  The  fire  was  to  one  side,  so  that  the  radiance 
from  it  accentuated  the  shadowy  billows  of  sand  that 
rose  and  fell  beneath  the  vapor-like  star-shine. 

Attar's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  faint  silver  distances 
of  the  desert,  with  the  eternal  question  that  unpeopled 
vasts  provoke.  He  had  taken  no  heed  when  the  Hindu 
rose  or  returned ;  for  the  desert  is  filled  with  thoughts, 
as  the  ocean  with  water. 

Since  journeying  into  the  desert,  they  had  followed 
the  slenderest  threads  of  trails  that  promised  any  clue 
to  Aletra  or  Selim's  movements.  But,  as  one  by  one 
these  clues  ended  in  nothing  but  disappointment,  they 
discussed  the  subject  less  and  less,  and  fell  to  forming 
theories  silently  as  they  rode  upon  their  camels — 
theories  that,  like  the  changing  dunes,  swirled  into  new 
shapes  and  perspectives  with  every  breath  of  desert 
wind. 


THE  LOVE  OF  THE  SERPENT  CHARMEE    177 

Their  only  and  last  hope  now  was  that  Aletra  had 
reached  the  Village  of  the  Weavers  with  Selim,  leaving 
no  trace  of  her  journey  for  others  to  follow. 

Attar  was  changed  much.  His  great  stature  was  un- 
bent. He  was  still  colossal  in  form,  but  no  longer  gave 
the  suggestion  of  limitless  strength,  as  in  the  past.  He 
seemed  like  a  white  mystic.  The  broad  brow,  the 
shadowed  splendor  of  the  dark-blue  eyes,  the  solemnity 
of  his  distant  gaze — all  told  of  a  newly  awakened  con- 
sciousness that  was  tearing  the  flesh  and  stamping  the 
brow  with  the  incomparable  knowledge  and  dignity  of 
suffering. 

Twice,  as  they  sat  in  the  starlight,  Ramon  thought  to 
touch  him  or  to  speak.  But,  looking  into  his  face,  he 
saw  that  he  was  far  away  on  the  ceaseless  quest;  and, 
fearing  to  cross  the  path  of  his  thoughts,  he  did  not 
break  the  silence  till  he  saw  by  a  slight  movement  of 
the  other  that  he  had  followed  the  trail  of  fancy  or 
hope  to  the  end  and  was  come  back.  Then,  with  touch 
soft  as  a  woman's,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  Attar's  and 
asked : 

"Is  thy  heart  hopeful  ?     Thou  hast  thought  long." 

"Nay,"  was  the  answer.  "I  see  neither  light  nor  the 
promise  of  light." 

"Yet,  could  they  have  journeyed  by  another  way  to 
the  mountains;  and,  also,  could  there  be  another  Selim 
of  frail  stature  with  whom  the  woman  traveled  ?"  mused 
Ramon.  The  other  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"A  year  back,"  he  said — "a  year  back  I  sat  amid  a 
blooming  harem — beloved — loving.  To-night  I  lie  in 
the  desert,  desolate." 

"Yet  thou  livest,  and  canst  demand  much  of  life." 

"Thou  hast  spoken  well,  O  my  friend.  But  the 
flower  of  my  life  is  an  aloe,  bitter  to  the  taste." 


178  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"At  times  the  future,  that  swathes  itself  in  amber 
and  flame,  is  a  shriveled  monster  in  the  unwinding,  and 
again,  garbed  in  gray,  the  day  may  unfold  to  bright- 
ness, as  a  dark-hued  haik,  when  lifted,  discloseth  the 
face  of  a  beautiful  woman." 

Attar,  who  had  borne  his  sorrow  with  dignity,  nor 
spoken  of  his  grief,  groaned  as  he  listened. 

"Thou  knowest  not,"  he  said  after  a  pause.  "Thou 
knowest  not  the  torment  of  thy  words.  For  all  the 
years  that  my  life  shall  number,  be  they  few  or  many, 
are  wound  about  the  heart  of  my  beautiful  woman." 

"Even  so,  O  my  friend,  with  the  passing  of  the  years 
cometh  peace." 

"Thou,  O  Ramon,  art  not  a  man  but  a  saint!  A 
patient,  silent  Marabout;  to  thee  can  I  open  my  heart. 
To  thee  and  to  none  other.  Ne'er  was  there  woman  like 
Aletra!  She — she "  Then  in  sudden  fury  he  in- 
terrupted himself.  "An  any  man  hath  taken  her  from 
me — be  he  Bedouin  or  Sultan — he  shall  pay  the  red 
price !" 

From  the  passion  of  the  outburst  it  was  plain  to 
Ramon  that  this  thought  was  not  new  to  the  other — 
that  it  had  ridden  with  him  on  the  journey  and  haunted 
his  fancies  at  night.  And  for  this  it  was  that  he  had 
fared  with  him  out  of  the  sight  of  the  Sultan's  palace. 
For  he  thought  that  Aletra  still  lived  behind  the  gates 
of  some  one  of  the  great  harems.  Now  he  made  answer : 

"Such  words  but  poison  thy  body  and  wear  thy  soul. 
Strength  and  fulfilment  come  only  with  the  tranquillity 
of  nature.  Destruction  cometh  with  the  wrath  of  a  mo- 
ment, and  foameth  in  the  mouth  of  the  tempest.  So 
much  power  canst  thou  use  each  day,  and  unto  it  must 
thou  not  seek  to  add,  lest  thou  go  outside  the  great  law 
of  the  worlds. 


THE  LOVE  OF  THE  SERPENT  CHAEMER    179 

"Consume  not  thy  soul  to  ashes  in  the  melting-pot  of 
hate,"  he  concluded  softly,  again  laying  his  hand  upon 
the  Moslem's  shoulder. 

"Thy  words,  O  Ramon,  are  words  of  wisdom;  "but 
scant  room  in  my  heart  is  there  for  wisdom  when  I  think 
of  Aletra.  An  thou  hadst  seen  her  or  heard  her  voice — 
thou  wouldst  know !  If  I  could  but  tell  thee !  She  was 
fairer  than  a  flower — like  a  cypress " 

With  faltering  voice  he  buried  his  face  in  the  folds  of 
his  white  burnoose  and  sobbed  as  if  for  the  dead: 

"Oh,  my  beautiful  woman,  my  beautiful  woman !" 

"Perchance,"  said  the  Hindu  softly,  "she  hath  come 
nigh  unto  being  as  fair  as  my  beautiful  woman." 

"Thine?"  exclaimed  Attar  in  amaze,  startled  out  of 
his  bitterness. 

"Yea,  mine,"  returned  Ramon  with  the  sudden  as- 
perity that  often  found  its  way  into  his  tone,  like  light- 
ning on  the  gray  of  a  cloud. 

"I  had  not  known,"  apologized  Attar.  "A  man 
groweth  selfish  in  his  sorrow.  Where  dwelleth  she  ?" 

"In  the  house  of  my  rival — Ravanna,  one  of  the 
princes  of  India." 

"Ever  knew  I  thou  wert  not  like  unto  the  nomads, 
though  thou  livest  their  life,"  returned  the  Moslem. 

He  wanted  to  ask  further,  but  with  Oriental  courtesy 
forbore,  yet  an  unseen  cord  had  drawn  them  closer; 
both  had  suffered.  That  was  why  he  had  bared  his 
heart  without  shame. 

There  was  silence  for  a  time  between  them.  Then 
the  Hindu  spoke: 

"Shall  I  tell  thee  how  it  befell  that  I  made  friends 
with  the  serpents  of  the  desert — how  I  hid  mine  eyes 
from  the  sight  of  love  for  many  years — how  I  con- 
sumed my  soul  in  the  longing  for  a  sight  of  the  one 


180  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

face — the  one  forbidden  face?  Shall  I  tell  unto  thee 
the  story  of  Naketa?" 

"An  thou  deemest  me  worthy,"  returned  the  Mos- 
lem softly. 

Silence  was  about  them — the  silence  of  the  desert 
which  can  be  likened  unto  none  other.  They  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  space,  the  vastness,  the  mystery  of  what 
is,  and  has  been,  and  ever  will  be. 

In  the  great  stillness  stretching  beneath  the  stars  the 
earth  attuned  to  the  voice  of  Sahara  will  hear  a  pulsing 
— a  close  and  clear  and  rhythmic  pulsing  from  the  very 
heart  of  God.  Ramon  heard  it ;  Attar  felt  it ;  and  by  it 
were  measured  all  things  human  and  divine.  Ramon 
took  from  the  folds  of  his  burnoose  a  small  object,  and 
after  gazing  upon  it  in  the  dim  light,  handed  it  to  Attar. 

"Naketa,"  he  said,  as  if  presenting  a  sensate  being, 
yet  scarcely  breathing  the  name.  His  voice  held  a  new 
note — tender  and  caressing.  Then,  as  the  other  turned 
toward  the  fire  the  better  to  see,  he  gently  took  the  small 
piece  of  carved  ivory  back.  Light  and  darkness  were 
as  one  to  him,  and  he  looked  for  a  long  moment  upon  it. 

Silence  fell  between  them  for  a  time,  then  Ramon 
spoke  very  slowly,  as  if  he  were  alone: 

"Vain  is  the  man  who  thinketh  his  own  sorrow  or 
delight  differeth  from  another's,  or  that  another  could 
ever  look  upon  the  face  of  his  beautiful  woman  with 
the  same  eyes  that  he  beholdeth  her  with.  Thy  beau- 
tiful woman  filleth  thy  heart,  even  so  was  my  heart  filled 
by  Naketa.  Thy  flesh  and  thy  soul  crave  thy  beautiful 
woman;  happiness  canst  thou  not  see  without  her,  nor 
considerest  thou  a  paradise  where  she  is  not. 

"Even  so  my  flesh  and  my  soul  craved  mine,  nor  saw 
I  happiness  in  this  or  any  other  life  without  her.  An- 


THE  LOVE  OF  THE  SEEPENT  CHARMER    181 

other  desired  thy  flower  of  perfection  and  took  her  to 
himself,  giving  thee  substance  which  thou  didst  cast 
aside.  Another  craved  my  flower  of  perfection,  took 
her  unto  himself,  and  sent  me  gold,  which  I  also  cast 
aside.  Thy  wrath  craveth  that  this  man  shall  pay  the 
red  price — even  so  thirsted  I  for  the  blood  of  the  man1 
who  betrayed  me. 

"Thus  far,  O  Attar  abu  Hamed  al  Hassen,  have  we 
journeyed  the  paths  of  bliss  and  the  black  wilderness  of 
hate  together.  How  this  befell  hath  little  weight,  and 
that  which  came  to  me  I  doubt  will  ever  come  to  thee. 
Yet  will  I  tell  thee,  that  thou  mayest  know  the  measure 
of  power  a  man  may  mete  unto  himself." 

Again  he  paused,  then  began  in  short,  abrupt  sen- 
tences. His  voice  was  hard  and  he  spoke  as  if  with  an 
effort : 

"Once  in  the  years  that  followed,  I,  a  charmer  of 
serpents,  came  upon  this  man,  mighty  in  his  riches  and 
strength.  My  beautiful  woman  loved  him.  Then,  when 
she  believed  me  dead — they — had — a  child.  For  her 
sake  I  had  never  returned  to  India  or  claimed  mine  in- 
heritance or  title,  lest  she  know  the  bitterness  of  the  cup 
I  drank  alone.  When  I  thought  of  this,  my  fingers 
writhed  to  tear  at  his  heart.  Then  fate  put  his  life  in 
my  power.  I  had  but  to  wait  the  swift  stroke  of  a 
serpent's  fang  and  he  would  be  destroyed.  I  saved  him 
— for  her  sake. 

"Greater  bitterness  than  this  can  no  man  know.  I 
wish  to  thee  that  thou  shalt  never  be  called  upon  to 
bear  the  knowledge  that  thy  pearl  is  content  without 
thee,  or  that  thou  shalt  ever  know  the  bitterness  of  spar- 
ing the  life  of  him  who  wronged  thee  to  secure  the  hap- 
piness of  the  woman  thou  lovest. 


182  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"This  have  I  done,  and  it  hath  seared  my  soul — yet 
of  such  moments  is  power  begotten.  Such  knowledge 
learned  I  in  the  grotto  of  the  White  Mystics,  whither  I 
went  in  the  first  days  of  my  sorrow  when  the  spirit  of 
me  was  sick  unto  death.  Knowledge  cometh  slowly  and 
after  much  fasting,  and  every  man  must  buy  it  for  him- 
self with  countless  hours  of  patience  and  suppression 
of  the  puny  human  will. 

"Thus  it  befell  that  the  enemy  within  me,  that  had 
fed  upon  my  life's  blood  through  many  years,  perished 
in  that  swift  moment  when  the  serpent  sought  to  strike 
Ravanna;  for  in  that  moment  my  angel-deva  tore  him 
from  my  heart  and  freed  me  from  his  consuming  grasp ; 
for  in  that  moment,  when  I  had  conquered  my  desire  for 
Naketa,  I  first  began  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  mys- 
tery of  love. 

"The  next  day,  as  Ravanna  rode  away,  I  saw  him — 
large-limbed,  serene,  confident  But  even  as  I  looked 
upon  my  rags,  I  knew  that  for  the  shadow  of  a  moment 
I  had  been  as  the  great  Om  (God) — the  moment  that  I 
had  conquered  the  enemy  within  me,  the  thirst  for  blood 
— the  moment  when  I  had  given  him  his  life. 

"Did  his  lips  smile  ?  Did  he  move  in  lusty  health  ? 
It  was  my  gift.  Did  Naketa's  lips  move  in  prayer  for 
the  return  of  her  love?  My  hand  had  answered  her 
prayer.  I  had  passed  from  the  torment  of  effect,  to  the 
great  order  of  cause." 

"Thou  hast  never  seen  thy  Naketa  again?"  asked 
Attar. 

"2sTever  have  I  feasted  mine  eyes  upon  her  again." 

"And  hast  thou  ne'er  sought  the  solace  of  a  wife?" 
asked  the  Moslem. 

"Yea,"  admitted  the  Hindu.     "Soon  after  the  de- 


THE  LOVE  OF  THE  SERPENT  CHARMER    183 

parture  of  Eavanna  I  fell  ill  of  a  desert  fever,  and  the 
daughter  of  a  weaver  ministered  unto  me.  When  I 
waxed  strong  again,  her  father  gave  her  to  me  to  wife. 

"I  told  her  of  Naketa.  She  made  no  answer,  but 
served  me  in  humility  and  kindness. 

"For  three  years  she  had  been  a  good  wife  to  me, 
when  one  day  a  stranger  set  his  tent  hard  by  my  own. 
It  was  evening,  about  a  moon  later,  that  she,  Sohora, 
came  and,  bending  low  before  me,  asked  that  I  divorce 
her  and  bestow  her  upon  the  stranger. 

"  'Have  I  not  treated  thee  well,  or  hath  thy  burden 
been  too  heavy?'  I  questioned,  and  she  made  answer, 
sorrowfully : 

"  'Nay,  thou  art  ever  a  kind  master.' 

"  'This  man,'  I  told  her,  'will  cause  thee  to  bear 
heavy  burdens,  and  hath  a  harsh  voice.  Wherein  is  his 
advantage  over  me  ?' 

"And  after  a  time  she  answered  slowly,  veiling  her 
eyes  that  I  should  not  see  the  hurt. 

"  'He  hath  not  the  memory  of  a  Naketa.' ' 

Here  Ramon  paused,  as  if  the  confidence  were  at 
an  end. 

"And  what  didst  thou  ?"  asked  Attar. 

He  smiled  sadly. 

"She  had  spoken  that  which  was  unanswerable,  and 
when  the  time  of  divorce  was  fulfilled  I  gathered  what 
substance  I  had  and  gave  it  to  her  as  a  dower  and  sent 
her  forth  with  her  new  husband,  who  had  no  memory 
of  a  Naketa. 

"Women,"  he  mused  after  a  pause,  "good  women, 
crave  love,  and  are  not  content  with  its  counterfeit." 

"What  meanest  thoib  by  counterfeit?"  asked  the 
Moslem. 


184  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"The  flesh  hath  many  loves,  the  heart  but  one," 
answered  the  Hindu. 

"Thou  speakest  the  truth,"  sighed  the  Moslem. 

"Women  are  like  flowers,"  said  Ramon  slowly. 
"Some  bloom  content  with  richest  color  beside  marsh 
wastes,  where  the  air  is  heavy  and  the  water  hath  a  poi- 
sonous flow,  and  he  who  would  may  stoop  and  pluck 
them.  And  some  there  be  that  blow  in  snowy  white- 
ness only  on  the  heights,  and  he  who  craveth  to  touch 
them  must  cast  all  worldly  weights  aside  and  climb  un- 
hampered by  detaining  arms." 

"And  hath  there  been  no  other?"  asked  the  Moslem, 
ignoring  the  simile. 

"None  but  the  flowers  along  the  roadside." 

As  he  spoke,  the  shadow  of  the  Sudanese  who  had  re- 
turned fell  between  the  two  men  and  the  flickering  fire. 
Ramon  rose,  and  drawing  his  mantle  about  him,  sought 
his  tent. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII 

ALETRA  BEADS  THE  SAPPHIRE'S  TALE 

IT  was  midday  in  the  Sahara.  The  Eed  Kocks  of 
Jazeb  rose  like  tongues  of  fire  from  the  lips  of  the 
dunes. 

Aletra  and  the  Copt,  Zobel  Ben  Zewar,  had  traveled 
many  leagues  into  the  desert — she  with  her  beauty  thrice 
veiled,  he  sightless  but  ever  searching  the  yellow  dis- 
tances with  the  torch  of  memory  and  calling  upon  her 
to  people  the  shining  wastes  with  the  fancies  of  his  lost 
youth. 

Their  tents  lay  in  the  shadow  of  the  rocks,  and  at  a 
little  distance  was  a  young  camel  eating  durah.  Beyond 
were  other  tents,  for  it  happened  often  that  they  trav- 
eled with  friendly  Bedawi  faring  upon  the  same  road. 

Zobel,  relieved  from  the  rocking  of  the  camel,  ap- 
peared to  doze,  but  his  sightless  eyes  strove  ever  to 
pierce  the  yellow  distances  about  him.  Having  been 
blind  but  a  few  years,  he  knew  the  beauty,  the  vastness, 
the  clearness,  the  magic  of  the  desert.  The  brilliance 
of  the  sun  lifted  something  of  the  darkness  that  hung 
before  his  eyes,  while  the  smell  of  the  tents  and  the 
camels  and  the  rugs  brought  memories  that  were  nigh 
as  clear  as  vision. 

Aletra  drew  her  veil  close,  for  though  she  disfigured 
not  her  face  when  she  fared  with  the  Copt  alone,  ever 

185 


186  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

she  lay  the  parchment  upon  it  when  they  chanced  to 
journey  with  others;  and  when  it  was  thus  covered  with 
sickly  whiteness  she  veiled  it  doubly.  For  this  reason 
the  women  of  the  caravans  liked  her  not,  thinking  her 
prideful  or  that  her  veil  hid  mystery. 

Now  she  stood  by  the  mouth  of  the  tent  looking  over 
the  rolling  dunes  as  if  she  might  read  the  future. 
Though  many  had  overtaken  them,  no  word  had  drifted 
to  her  ear  concerning  any  of  her  house,  yet  she  was  not 
cast  down  or  discouraged,  for  safety  also  hid  in  the 
silence. 

And  even  when  separated  from  those  that  fared  along 
the  way,  she  had  no  fear.  Sahara,  the  silent  spirit, 
wrapped  in  the  magic  of  the  sun,  made  her  heart  strong. 
Sahara,  mother  of  the  moon-children  who  whisper 
secrets  to  those  that  sleep  on  the  sand,  comforted  her. 

The  seraglio,  the  silent-footed  slaves,  the  raiment  of 
magnificence,  and  the  burning  eyes  of  the  Sultan  seemed 
far — remote  as  a  dream  in  some  distant  world,  unreal 
as  if  they  had  happened  to  women  other  than  herself. 
Yet  her  parting  with  Attar  seemed  of  a  nearer  day — 
very  close.  At  times  she  could  seem  to  smell  the  tambac 
of  his  burnoose  and  the  amber  that  scented  its  folds. 

The  nights  were  never  lonely,  for  the  dreams  her 
thoughts  wove  of  him  were  delicately  tender,  though 
ravishingly  sweet  and  sufficing.  The  unreason  of 
knowledge  was  upon  her.  She  felt  the  mystery  that  is 
no  longer  mystery  to  those  that  harken  to  the  voice  of 
the  desert. 

And  with  every  step  into  the  further,  inner  heart  of 
the  dunes  she  felt  as  if  she  were  drawing  near  to  the 
master.  Oft  her  lips  broke  into  song  that  was  as  of  a 


ALETEA  READS  THE  SAPPHIRE'S  TALE  187 

bird  in  mating-time.  Such  a  note  trembled  upon  her 
lips  at  the  moment,  as  the  Copt  strove  to  people  the 
golden  field  with  visions  of  the  past. 

"Ah,  youth!"  he  cried.  "Hagar,  thou  art  young. 
What  seest  thou  ?  What  color  have  the  stones  ?  What 
voice  hath  the  sand?" 

"The  rocks,  O  my  father,  are  red  and  deep  like  the 
stain  of  henna,  like  the  brightness  of  coral  also  in  places, 
and  like  the  color  of  a  costly  rug.  Gold,  too,  are  the 
rocks  where  the  sun  shineth  upon  them  and  saffron  and 
amber,  and  the  dunes  are  white  and  yellow  and  gray  in 
the  distance,  and  closer  they  answer  the  sun  in  a 
brightness  that  dazzleth  the  eye." 

"Lie  the  mountains  in  the  distance  a  girdle  of  gray 
or  of  blue  or  of  purple?  One  of  these  it  is,  for  men's 
eyes  may  change,  but  Sahara  is  changeless.  The  sires 
of  men  that  have  slumbered  for  thousands  of  years  have 
seen  it  as  thou  seest  it,  and  as  many  years  will  fall  upon 
it  in  the  future,  still  will  it  wear  its  aged  youth." 

When  he  ceased  speaking,  Aletra  answered: 

"The  mountains  are  clad  as  in  the  raiment  of  kings,  O 
my  father,  in  purple,  with  turbans  of  snow  that  touch 
the  sky." 

The  Copt  smiled  his  wrinkled  smile  that  made  his 
face  seem  goodly. 

"It  is  not  that  which  is  in  the  desert,  but  that  which 
the  eye  beholdeth,  that  maketh  the  picture  and  keepeth 
it  in  the  mind  till  the  days  have  grown  old.  But  the 
voice  of  the  wilderness — what  sayest  the  voice,  my 
daughter  ?" 

For  a  time  she  answered  not,  her  eyes  bent  upon  the 
far  distances. 


188  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"The  voice,  O  my  father,  speaketh  strange  words, 
some  to  thee  and  some  to  me.  But  to  both  it  sayeth  that 
it  hath  many  golden  years  still  in  its  bosom." 

"It  is  well,"  he  answered,  satisfied,  and  again  silence 
fell  between  them. 

The  camels  fell  upon  durah.  The  Bedawi  of  the  near 
tents  sat  about  their  noonday  fires;  the  dogs  slept  in 
the  sun;  unbroken  silence  lay  over  the  distance. 

After  a  time  Zobel  bent  his  ear  upon  the  sand  and 
listened.  Twice  he  did  this,  then  spoke  softly  to  Aletra, 
whom  he  called  Hagar: 

"Hearest  thou  aught?" 

"Naught,"  she  answered,  and  gazed  afar. 

"Seest  thou  aught?" 

"Nay." 

Again  he  listened. 

"Camels.  One — two — three — four — many — I  can 
count  them  not — come  toward  us." 

Still  the  dogs  lay  silent  and  the  desert  men  rested 
without  perceiving. 

"Many  camels  come,  also  a  horse,"  said  the  Copt. 

What  had  been  taken  from  him  in  sight  had  been 
given  him  doubly  in  hearing.  To  Aletra  the  silence 
was  unbroken;  but  she  knew  his  power,  whether  of 
hearing  or  foretelling,  and  hastened  into  the  tent  and 
put  the  parchment  freshly  upon  her  face;  for  he  had 
pointed  the  way  the  caravan  was  approaching,  and  ever 
she  feared  caravans  traveling  swiftly  and  overtaking 
them. 

When  she  came  forth  again,  the  dogs  were  drinking 
the  air  and  a  young  camel  groaned  as  if  in  greeting  or 
unrest.  The  Bedawi  bent  their  eyes  upon  the  distance, 
and  soon  a  cloud — a  small,  white  cloud — rose  like  smoke 


ALETRA  EEADS  THE  SAPPHIRE'S  TALE  189 

beyond  the  f arther  dunes.  As  if  created  with  a  single 
heart  and  will,  the  desert  men  sprang  to  their  feet,  the 
dogs  lifted  their  voices,  the  camels  stamped  or  roared 
with  the  uneasiness  of  the  hour,  and  the  women  drew 
their  veils  against  the  eye  of  the  stranger. 

Swiftly  the  cloud  widened;  higher  it  rose  as  the 
strange  caravan  approached,  till  within  the  cloud  could 
be  seen  camels — many — and  a  horse.  The  camels  were 
white  and  swift  and  young  and  carried  merchandise. 
And  when  they  approached,  it  was  seen  that  one  carried 
a  bassourah.  They  were  the  camels  of  a  merchant  of 
Tunis — so  said  a  slave  who  ran  before;  for  the  caravan 
was  held  at  a  little  distance  and  word  sent  to  the  Bedawi 
that  their  women  might  seek  shelter  from  the  eyes  of 
strangers.  When  this  was  accomplished,  the  merchant 
and  those  that  were  with  him  came  forward. 

"Peace  be  unto  you,"  they  cried,  salaaming,  and 
again  "Peace  be  unto  you,"  and  again  "Peace  be  unto 
you." 

"And  unto  you,"  the  Bedawi  made  answer. 

"And  unto  you,"  said  Zobel. 

The  stranger  and  those  that  were  with  him  alighted, 
and  they  were  made  welcome.  Their  camels  wepe 
fed  and  their  water-skins  filled  with  water  from  the 
spring  beyond  the  rocks,  and  their  tents  were  spread 
and  their  curtains  were  hung — for  they  had  come  a 
long  distance  and  would  tarry  the  night. 

Aletra,  hidden  within  the  tent,  sought  to  behold  the 
strangers. 

Through  a  rent  in  the  cloth  she  saw  those  that  were 
with  him,  but  the  merchant  held  his  burnoose  so  that 
she  saw  not  his  face. 

There  were  many  slaves  with  the  stranger's  caravan, 


190  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

and  they  made  fires  and  prepared  food  that  had  a  rich 
odor ;  and  the  Bedawi  women,  thinking  another  woman 
had  come  in  the  bassourali,  sent  tea  flavored  with  the 
leaves  of  mint  and  such  sweets  as  they  had  with  them; 
but  the  bassourah  was  empty.  No  woman  was  with  the 
caravan. 

Aletra  came  from  the  tent  and  mingled  with  the 
Bedawi,  but  she  could  not  gain  sight  of  the  merchant. 
Those  that  had  seen  him  said  he  was  ill-favored  and  as 
one  used  to  command.  Hearing  this,  she  turned  away 
sadly,  for  ever  in  her  dreams  Attar  had  ridden  to  her 
on  a  camel ;  and  ever,  though  she  feared  the  swift  cara- 
van coming  from  the  south,  also  she  hoped  and  visioned 
delight  in  the  sand-smoke  of  every  one  that  overtook 
them.  Now,  seeing  that  there  was  neither  anything  to 
hope  for  or  to  fear,  she  sat  before  the  tent  and  listened 
to  the  gossip  that  ever  travels  with  the  swift. 

"Idillah  hath  left  the  Street  of  the  Dancers." 

"The  leader  of  the  faithful  hath  a  new  favorite  sheik 
upon  whom  he  lavisheth  honor." 

"The  Franks  were  driven  from  the  Sultan's  presence 
by  a  man  of  the  people." 

And  through  it  all  she  listened  and  hungered  for  a 
word  from  the  house  of  the  master,  yet  feared  she  to 
question,  for  she  ever  remembered  the  wise  words  of 
Zobel: 

"Silence  is  a  shield,  my  daughter — a  shield  that  pre- 
serveth  as  a  fine  armor." 

The  Bedawi  and  even  the  Copt  were  bidden  to  the 
feast,  and  when  all  had  partaken,  a  merrymaking  was 
begun,  tom-toms  were  beaten,  and  a  Rauwha  told  stories 
before  his  tent.  A  young  camel-driver,  with  a  voice  like 


ALETEA  BEADS  THE  SAPPHIEE'S  TALE  191 

a  flute,  sang  of  the  beauty  of  a  woman  whose  loveliness 
fired  the  hearts  of  those  who  listened.  . 

There  was  also  a  sand-diviner,  who  told  the  secrets 
of  Kismet,  that  which  has  been  hidden  from  the  be- 
ginning. And  when  one  and  another  of  the  desert 
women  heard  the  words  of  fate  concerning  the  things 
that  were  to  befall  each  one,  there  was  weeping  and 
laughter  and  cries  of  "A'i,  tii,  rii!" 

To  him,  as  he  stirred  the  grains  of  prophecy,  Aletra 
listened  despite  her  anxious  fear  lest  the  lifting  of 
the  corner  of  her  veil  should  guide  one  who  sought  her. 
And  as  she  listened  there  came  and  stood  at  her  side  the 
merchant,  whom  she  heeded  not  at  first.  Yet  as  the 
diviner  spoke,  with  the  monotone  of  his  calling,  solemn 
as  a  Marabout,  Aletra' s  soul  within  her  became  aware 
that  sharp,  eager  eyes  were  upon  her,  that  they  seemed 
belike  to  pierce  the  covering  of  her  hoik. 

She  arose  and  looked  at  the  merchant.  Of  his  face 
she  could  see  naught,  for  he  was  closely  muffled  in  his 
white  burnoose.  Yet  a  nameless  terror  gripped  at  her 
heart — for,  by  Allah,  he  was  of  the  stature  and  the 
girth  and  the  haughty,  truculent  bearing  of  one 
who 

"Jeppa!" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Babek,  the  chief  eunuch  of  the 
seraglio,  that  spoke. 

Aletra  shrieked  and  would  have  fled  into  the  tent, 
but  Babek  barred  her  way  with  his  great  bulk. 

Taking  a  ring  bearing  the  royal  seal  from  his  bur- 
noose,  he  held  it  aloft  and  called  upon  the  men  of  the 
caravan  to  harken,  and  spoke  as  one  having  authority : 

"I  have  deceived  ye,  O  my  brethren,"  he  said.     "I 


192  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

am  not  a  merchant,  but  one  of  the  royal  household — 
Babek,  chief  eunuch  of  the  great  harem.  And  I  pro- 
claim this  woman,  the  woman  of  mystery  who  standeth 
before  you,  to  be  the  JSTourmahal  of  the  Sultan,  Jeppa, 
of  Tunis." 

And  he  came  close  to  Aletra  and  would  have  plucked 
her  veil  away  but  that  she  drew  back  and  raised  her 
hand. 

"Need  is  there  none  to  unveil  the  desire  of  the  Com- 
mander of  the  Faithful  before  the  eyes  of  lesser  men," 
she  said.  I  deny  not  that  I  am  Jeppa  of  Tunis,  yet 
would  I  have  speech  with  the©  concerning  the  things 
which  have  befallen  me,  where  none  may  hear." 

And  Babek  fell  back,  saying: 

"Thou  hast  rare  wisdom.  Let  it  be  even  as  thou 
sayest." 

And  she  took  him  within  the  tent,  and  when  she  had 
closed  the  mouth  thereof  she  questioned: 

"Hath  word  come  from  the  master?  Hath  he  given 
me  unto  the  Sultan  ?" 

But  she  held  her  veil  close,  though  her  white  arm 
was  bared  to  the  shoulder.  Babek,  seeing  her  weak- 
ness, was  a  long  moment  in  answering,  and  he  framed 
his  words  craftily  that  her  woman's  pride  should  serve 
him  in  the  long  journey  back  to  the  seraglio. 

"Hiath  he  given  me  unto  the  Sultan?"  she  asked 
again. 

"Yea,"  said  the  eunuch.  "He  that  was  thy  master 
hath  returned  from  the  new  country  and  is  one  of  the 
royal  household.  In  the  hour  of  his  return  came  he 
before  the  Sultan  that  he  might  be  given  that  which  was 
promised  an  thou  wert  dead — for  it  was  rumored  that 
thou  didst  perish.  But  he  believed  not  that  thou  wert 


dead,  and  the  Sultan  promised  him  greater  things  an 
he  should  find  thee. 

"He  hath  his  part  in  the  seraglio  wherein  to  dwell, 
and  hath  also  been  given  the  tribute  of  a  desert  city 
wherein  he  may  rule.  From  his  own  harem  hath  the 
Sultan  given  him  wives — Zittara,  the  Kabylian,  and 
Azalia,  the  Greek — both  of  these  hast  thou  seen — both 
thou  knowest  are  fair." 

When  he  had  said  this,  Aletra  cried : 

"Tell  me  no  more!  Tell  me  no  more!"  and  she 
sank  to  the  sand  and  put  her  forehead  upon  it,  and  the 
meaning  of  life  grew  suddenly  dark  before  her.  But 
Babek,  having  no  tenderness,  spoke  again : 

"He  delighteth  most  in  Azalia.  But  all  of  these 
things  are  the  price  of  thee  and  thou  art  not  forthcom- 
ing. And,  having  found  that  thou  hadst  fled  with  the 
Copt,  he  seeketh  thee.  Therefore  hath  he  bidden  me 
persuade  thee,  an  I  came  upon  thee  first,  and  give  thee 
his  excuses  that  he  would  not  hide  thee  in  a  poor  harem 
when  thou  art  craved  of  the  Great.  And  he  beseecheth 
thee  to  submit  thyself  to  the  Sultan." 

"He  hath  sent  such  word  ?"  said  Aletra  in  anger. 

"Yea.  And  furthermore  he  hath  said  that  thou 
shouldst  consider  his  fortune  as  well  as  thine." 

And  again  she  said: 

"He hath  said  this?" 

But  she  could  scarce  speak  the  words,  so  overcome 
was  she  with  amazement  and  wrath. 

"Yea,"  he  answered  again,  and  he  was  well  pleased 
with  the  workings  of  his  crafty  words.  "The  sheik,  Al 
Hassen,  hath  also  set  forth  upon  another  road  that  he 
may  tell  thee  with  his  own  lips  lest  thou  shouldst  doubt 
me.  At  Biskra  shalt  thou  see  him  if  it  be  not  sooner." 


194  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

And  when  she  heard  this,  she  was  silent,  and  walked 
a  little  way  from  the  slave  and  covered  her  veil  even 
with  her  hands  lest  he  peer  through  it.  When  she 
spoke  again  her  voice  was  changed.  It  was  as  if  rocks, 
grating  against  one  another,  fell  from  a  great  distance. 

"But  how  wilt  thou  make  peace  with  the  Sultan  for 
me?"  she  asked. 

"He  shall  think  that  thou  hast  been  taken  for  ransom, 
and  that  I  rescued  thee." 

"It  is  well,"  she  said.  "And  now  will  I  charge  thee 
with  words  to  the  Sheik  al  Hassen,  for  I  crave  not  to 
see  his  face  again.  Tell  him  I  sigh  for  the  fragrance 
of  the  Sultan's  harem — that  the  Sultan  hath  cast  a  spell 
over  me  with  the  glory  of  his  glance — that  his  touch 
sendeth  my  blood  into  delight,  and  that  I  shall  die 
content  an  I  have  the  honor  of  bearing  a  son  to  him. 
Tell  him  I  picked  Azalia  for  him,  as  she  is  beautiful 
and  hath  wit  enough. 

"Tell  him —  "  she  choked  upon  the  words.  "Nay, 
Babek,  believe  my  words  or  believe  them  not,  as  thou 
wilt ;  but  tell  him — tell  him — tell  him."  And  her  body 
trembled  with  the  agony  and  rage  of  the  moment. 

"And  now  thou  mayest  leave  me,"  she  said,  and  the 
slave  turned  to  go,  but  e'er  he  left  her  he  said : 

"I  will  make  ready  thy  tent  of  silk  that  I  have 
brought,  and  put  fresh  rugs  in  the  bassourah  which 
waiteth  thee,  and  its  perfumed  curtains  shall  be  of  any 
tint  thou  shalt  consider,  for,  O  Jeppa,  thou  art  not  as 
other  women.  Generations  have  passed  since  such 
beauty,  and  wit,  and  courage  hath  cast  a  shadow  in  the 
great  harem.  Thou  hast  made  a  thrice  blessed  choice 
for  thyself  and  for  Islam.  May  the  blessing  of  Allah 
be  upon  thee " 


ALETRA  READS  THE  SAPPHIRE'S  TALE    195 

But  she  motioned  him  to  go.  And  when  she  was 
alone,  she  smote  her  breast  and  fell  upon  the  sand  and 
wound  her  arms  aloft  as  in  a  frenzy,  and  loosened  the 
mantle  from  about  her  white  throat  as  if  it  bound  her. 
"Allah,"  she  said.  "Allah,  Allah,"  and  "Azalia  the 
Greek !  Azalia  the  Greek,"  she  repeated,  "preferred  of 
me !  And  for  this  have  I  risked  a  sultan's  displeasure — 
for  this  have  I  walked  with  the  unclean  and  worn 
coarse  raiment  and  toiled  beneath  heavy  loads  as  might 
a  nomad,"  and  again  she  smothered  a  cry  of  desolation. 

"Allah  preserve  me  from  madness,"  she  moaned  as 
she  rocked  herself  in  her  woe.  "But  he  shall  pay  to 
the  uttermost.  Yea;  for  Azalia  shall  tell  him  how 
mine  eyes  thirst  for  a  sight  of  the  Sultan;  how  mine 
ears  feast  upon  the  Sultan's  words;  how  I  pray 
Allah  for  a  son.  I  shall  laugh  with  her  at  the  poor 
wit  of  the  Sheik  al  Hassen,  and  tell  of  the  gray  years 
that  were  mine  beneath  his  roof.  Yea,  he  shall  pay; 
he  shall  pay !"  she  cried  as  she  tore  the  coarse  garments 
from  her  body  and  prepared  to  remove  the  parchment. 

"Come  forth,  my  beauty,"  she  called  as  if  to  a 
woman  other  than  herself.  But  when  she  was  half 
unclad,  she  paused,  and  the  words  of  Babek  came  to 
her  afresh. 

"If  he  brought  word  that  I  had  become  a  leper  I 
would  be  neither  of  the  dead  nor  of  the  harem,  and  he 
would  lose  his  greatness — and  also  Azalia,  the  Greek." 

And  she  thought  long. 

"I  fear,"  she  murmured,  "that  the  things  I  would 
do  I  cannot  do,  and  that  I  shall  look  for  a  sight  of  the 
master's  face.  Awha!  Awha!" 

Then  the  words  of  the  slave  came  to  her  again  and 
anger  consumed  her  anew,  and  she  sprang  frorn^  the 


196  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

sand  to  clothe  herself  in  the  garments  Babek  had  sent. 
The  sapphire  fell  from  her  bosom  and  lay  upon  the 
sand.  But  even  as  she  stooped  to  lift  it,  the  words  of 
the  Sultan  came  to  her: 

"This  hath  been  the  magic  jewel  of  a  great  diviner, 
and  holdeth  secrets  in  its  heart." 

The  light  fell  upon  it  through  a  rent  in  the  cloth 
above  her.  The  jewel  was  blue  like  the  water  in  deep 
places,  and  like  the  water,  the  eye  could  not  reach  its 
depth. 

"Tell  unto  me,"  she  said,  holding  the  sapphire,  "tell 
unto  me  the  truth.  The  future  lieth  hidden  in  darkness. 
The  truth !  The  truth !  The  truth !"  she  besought. 

And  as  she  looked  into  the  heart  of  the  stone,  her 
anger  dropped  from  her  like  a  torn  garment,  and  the 
strength  of  her  rage  forsook  her,  and  she  was  weak  as  a 
young  child ;  for  three  words  burned  in  the  heart  of  the 
sapphire,  not  in  script,  but  in  the  language  of  under- 
standing which  hath  not  form  nor  color,  and  the  words 
were: 

"He  hath  lied." 

Without,  the  slaves  were  making  ready  her  tent  of 
silk.  She  heard  Babek  give  command  concerning  her 
food  and  the  trappings  of  her  bassourah,  heard  the 
sound  of  gold  passing  from  hand  to  hand,  breathed  the 
fragrance  of  the  scented  stuffs  that  were  to  adorn  her 
bed.  But  still  she  lay  upon  the  sand  looking  into  the 
sapphire;  and  in  the  magic  of  the  hour  it  seemed  that 
the  master  stood  beside  her. 

When  night  had  fallen,  she  wound  her  coarse  haik 
about  her  and  went  forth  to  find  Babek.  As  she  passed 
the  silken  tent  that  had  been  spread  for  her,  those  that 


ALETRA  READS  THE  SAPPHIRE'S  TALE  197 

were  in  her  way  salaamed  low,  as  if  to  a  princess, 
while  others  sprinkled  perfume  in  her  path. 

When  he  beheld  her,  Babek  came  forward  to  know 
her  wish,  and  she  commanded  him  to  follow  her  till  they 
were  beyond  the  hearing  of  others.  And  when  they 
had  gone  a  little  way,  she  paused  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  great  rocks,  and  looking  through  the  swathings 
of  her  veil,  said  three  words: 

"Thou  hast  lied." 

"I !  Lie !"  cried  the  eunuch.  A  sudden  fury  shook 
the  great  figure  of  the  slave. 

"This  to  me  ?"  he  cried,  and  made  a  swift  step  for- 
ward. "Knowest  thou  not,  thou  scraping  of  a  poor 
man's  harem,  that  I  may  have  thee  beaten  till  naught 
remaineth  of  thy  beauty  ?"  he  cried  in  hot  rage. 
"Knowest  thou  not  that  thy  life  lieth  in  my  hands? 
The  darkness  of  the  walled  death  shall  be  thine  an  thou 
openest  thy  lips  in  my  presence  again.  And  now  will  I 
give  thee  a  sign  of  the  gentleness  of  Babek's  hand !" 

As  he  spoke,  he  sprang  toward  her,  reaching  as  if  to 
grasp  and  destroy  her.  But  what  is  the  might  of  a  giant 
eunuch,  a  royal  caravan,  a  host  of  slaves,  nay,  even  the 
Sultan  himself,  compared  to  a  woman's  wit  ? 

In  that  moment  she  unveiled  her  face. 

His  hands  fell  as  if  palsied. 

"A  leper!    Thou!    Great  Allah!    Thou— a— leper!" 

"Thou  seest,"  she  said  coldly.  "Now  go  hence  and 
tell  to  thy  master  how  poorly  hast  thou  guarded  the 
treasure  of  his  heart." 

As  she  spoke  she  covered  her  face,  for  she  craved 
not  that  his  gaze  be  upon  her  over  long. 

"How — how "  began  Babek  as  he  stood  trembling 

in  the  shelter  of  a  rock  whither  he  had  fled  for  fear. 


198  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Dost  doubt  ?  Wouldst  look  further  ?  Wouldst  per- 
chance touch  my  tortured  face?  Behold,  I  am  will- 
ing!" she  cried,  approaching  him. 

"Touch  me  not !  Touch  me  not !"  he  yelled  in  terror. 
"Wouldst  thou  destroy  me  utterly  ?" 

But  heeding  him  not,  she  bore  swiftly  upon  him  and 
seized  his  garments. 

"Allah  send  thee  a  thousand  deaths !"  he  cried  as  he 
tore  from  her  grasp.  And  crying  "Unclean !  Un- 
clean !"  he  fled  into  the  gathering  night. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  GALLOP  OF  THE  SAND  STEEDS 

ALETEA  slept  not  when  the  night  had  fallen,  nor 
ceased  to  harken  to  any  that  passed  beside  the  tent. 
But  when  it  was  nigh  unto  midnight,  sleep  overcame  her 
for  an  hour. 

When  she  awoke,  she  could  see  by  the  sheen  of  the 
sand  close  outside  the  tent  that  the  moon  had  come 
up,  and  she  rose  to  keep  the  tryst  of  prayer  for  the 
master  as  she  had  told  him  she  would,  ever,  when  the 
moon  first  lay  upon  the  mosque.  And  when  she  came 
without  she  looked  toward  the  tents  of  Babek,  and  lo 
there  were  none ;  and  again  to  the  place  where  the  tents 
of  the  Bedawi  had  risen,  and  behold,  they  also  were 
gone. 

And  as  far  as  she  could  discern  in  the  crystal  light 
of  the  moon,  was  naught  to  be  seen  of  man  or  camel 
or  tent  other  than  the  tent  of  Zobel  beside  her  own,  and 
the  young  camel  that  was  tethered  beyond  the  caravan's 
dead  fires. 

~No  wind  was  abroad ;  the  dunes  rolled  in  magic  clear- 
ness beneath  the  silver  light,  so  white,  so  pure  it  was, 
that  colors  like  faint  woven  silks  fresh  from  the  looms 
of  paradise  showed  close  and  far.  She  had  no  fear  of 
the  loneliness.  The  night  smiled  upon  her,  and  from 
her  shadowed  place  beside  the  rock  she  smiled  back  upon 

199 


200  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

it  and  lifted  her  arms  toward  it  and  her  lips,  still  tinted 
with  the  rose  of  her  dreams,  exalted  the  hour  as  if  tid- 
ings of  great  good  were  upon  her  and  she  had  come  into 
security. 

In  her  short  sleep  she  had  dreamed  that  it  was  spring, 
that  she  stood  in  the  little  kiosk  in  the  harem  garden  at 
Tunis,  and  that  Attar  came  to  her.  He  wore  a  white 
burnoose  and  seemed  to  have  just  come  from  a  desert 
journey.  And  as  he  neared  her,  the  wind  blew  and  a 
shower  of  rose-petals  covered  them  both  and  they 
laughed  in  delight.  Then,  with  the  magic  that  fashions 
dreams,  it  seemed  that  a  child  lay  on  her  breast,  and 
that  stooping,  he  kissed  them  both.  Her  waking  had 
been  slow,  and  she  still  clung  to  the  memory  of  the  hour. 

Zobel,  having  watched  long  before  her  tent,  at  last 
had  fallen  asleep  on  his  rugs,  and  breathed  almost  with- 
out sound  as  though  overcome  with  great  weariness. 
She  wakened  him  not,  but  sped  lightly  over  the  sand  as 
if  dancing  in  a  garden,  for  in  the  hour  of  her  deliverance 
her  heart  rejoiced. 

"Lo,"  she  said  aloud  in  a  voice  like  the  crystal  of 
the  moon.  "Lo,  ne'er  before  have  I  known  why  the 
desert  is  likened  unto  the  garden  of  Allah." 

And  she  drank  in  the  beauty  of  the  sand-flowers  and 
the  many  colored  terraces  of  the  desert  that  lead  to  the 
palace  of  the  moon;  and  she  laughed  with  the  white 
limbed  maidens  of  the  moon  as  they  chased  the  shadows 
over  the  dunes,  their  tresses  of  mysterious  light  trailing 
behind  them.  The  rocks  that  marked  the  distances  were 
like  kiosks  with  trellises  of  faint  bloom  upon  them; 
wondrous  tints  of  colors  born  in  heaven  lay  in  places 
over  the  gardens  of  the  sand. 

Above  were  the  fields  of  blue  where  the  stars  and  the 


THE  GALLOP  OF  THE  SAND  STEEDS  201 

sand  held  fantasy  and  quick  combat,  and  over  all  was 
the  silence — the  whispering  silence  of  Sahara — that 
tells  the  secrets  of  eternity.  Above  her  a  quick  shower 
of  stars  seemed  so  close  that  she  must  hear  them  crash- 
ing one  against  another ;  but  there  was  no  sound,  it  was 
as  if  they  were  a  mirage. 

She  wove  her  arms  lightly  in  the  invisible  lacework 
of  moonbeams  as  she  had  when  she  last  stood  before 
the  master.  Her  bare  feet  made  no  sound  upon  the 
sand ;  the  movement  of  her  young  limbs  was  music.  So 
might  a  houri  of  the  blest  abodes  appear  when  waiting 
the  summons  of  the  inner  paradise. 

She  sank  upon  a  dune,  and  making  a  pillow  of  sand, 
lay  looking  up  at  the  stars  which,  faint  in  the  greater 
light,  still  held  fantasy  above  her,  darting  hither  and 
thither  in  the  blue  gardens  of  the  sky.  And  as  she 
listened  to  the  silence,  it  seemed  struggling  as  if  to 
speak.  A  something  was  coming  toward  her,  swift  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind.  As  she  strove  to  listen  to  the 
voice  of  the  silence,  a  veil  came  over  the  further  dunes — 
a  veil  that  hid  the  whiteness  of  the  magic  light. 

As  she  looked  it  grew  darker  till  the  desert  lay  once 
more,  not  a  garden,  but  a  waste  of  shrouded  sand.  To 
those  that  have  bided  in  the  desert,  the  voice  of  the 
dunes  is  like  unto  the  voice  of  Allah,  silent,  yet  reaching 
to  them  from  far  distances  of  space,  and  he  who  hath 
once  heard  it  despiseth  it  not. 

Aletra  strove  with  impatience  to  hear  the  voice  to 
the  end,  but  the  spirit  had  fled.  Then,  swift  upon  the 
silence  came  the  sound  of  sand-rain  tapping  upon  the 
tents,  and  a  duller  sound  as  it  struck  against  the  rocks. 

The  young  camel  resting  beyond  the  dead  fires  com- 


202  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

plained.  The  wind  shook  the  tent  wherein  Zobel  slept 
and  he  stirred. 

"Hagar,  Hagar!"  he  called,  but  half  aroused.  And 
she  went  to  him. 

''There  is  something  that  cometh  toward  us,"  said 
Aletra. 

"A  caravan?"  he  questioned. 

"Nay,  a  great  wind  darkeneth  the  desert." 

"The  moon  shineth  not?" 

"Yea,  like  unto  silver,  and  I  see  not  the  form  of  a 
cloud ;  but  the  voice  of  the  desert  hath  spoken  as  I  lay 
upon  the  sand." 

"Be  not  affrighted.  It  is  not  the  time  of  the 
khamsin." 

"And  must  all  things  come  in  the  fitness  of  time?" 
she  asked.  "I  tell  thee  a  sirocco  cometh  upon  us." 

But,  as  thus  the  hours  passed  and  the  wind  came  not, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  Copt  were  right.  The  desert  lay  a 
gray  waste  like  a  slumbering  sea  beneath  a  near  sky. 
But  when  the  day  was  a  few  hours  old,  the  sand  began 
to  wind  its  weavings  swiftly.  Small  whirlwinds  rose 
from  the  dunes  and  vanished  in  swirling  spray.  Beyond, 
Sahara-mist  rose,  like  clouds,  saffron  and  brown,  mov- 
ing swiftly.  Above,  the  sun  was  like  a  great  lamp  of 
copper  in  an  amber  globe.  The  rushing  of  the  wind 
filled  the  silence  as  a  voice  to  which  multitudes  listened. 
The  camel  strained  against  that  which  bound  it. 

Zobel's  face  was  grave.  Billows  of  sand  beat  against 
the  near  rocks,  breaking  in  mighty  surfs.  Small  pieces 
of  stone  struck  with  the  sound  of  hail  upon  other  stones 
that  lay  about — it  was  as  if  the  writhings  of  a  serpent 
filled  the  world,  yet  as  if  a  terrible  wisdom  drove  all 


THE  GALLOP  OF  THE  SAND  STEEDS   203 

before  it.  The  rocks,  now  covered  with  whitening  sand, 
were  like  crouching  gods  of  a  past  that  was  dead — of  a 
yesterday  long  since  forgotten. 

The  wind  tore  over  the  wastes  without  hindrance  to 
its  wrath,  and  its  tongue  was  the  tongue  of  vengeance. 
But  it  was  not  the  wind  of  the  sea  that  spoke.  There 
was  anxiety,  mystery,  urge,  mighty  conflict  in  it,  that 
spoke  with  the  voice  of  living  man — dread  magic,  a 
hurrying  something  that  drives  the  soul,  a  tortured 
closeness  upon  knowledge  that  is  yet  in  its  blindness, 
the  unknown — an  unrest  deeper  than  the  sea  or  the 
power  that  uprooteth  in  the  wooded  places  of  the  earth. 

It  was  like  no  other  thing,  for  it  was  the  risen  wind 
of  Sahara. 

"Doth  the  sand  hide  the  sky?"  asked  Zobel. 

"Yea,  O  my  father!" 

"Doth  the  wind  come  from  the  east  or  the  west?" 

"From  the  west,  yet  a  little  from  the  south." 

"Oh,  that  I  had  my  sight!     My  sight!" 

"What  wouldst  thou  do  that  I  cannot  do  for  thee?" 
she  questioned. 

"Mount  the  camel  and  ride — ride  across  the  wind. 
Move — move  that  the  sand  become  not  thy  winding 
sheet !" 

"That  couldst  thou  not  do,  O  my  father;  for  the 
desert  riseth  a  yellow  tide  and  the  billows  are  mighty." 

"Yea,  do  I  not  hear?"  he  answered.  "But  in  a 
storm  must  the  ship  ride  or  go  down  to  destruction. 
Hearest  thou,"  he  cried,  "even  the  beast  sayeth  this, 
and  would  flee  the  death  of  the  dunes." 

For  even  as  they  spoke  the  camel  tore  at  its  moorings 
and  sent  a  tortured  cry  into  the  wilderness.  It  was 
morn,  but  the  darkness  of  nightfall  was  over  all. 


204  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"I  will  go  forth  and  bring  the  beast  into  the  shadow 
of  the  rock,"  said  Aletra.  "And  thou  shalt  ride  forth 
or  bide  as  is  thy  will." 

Leagues  of  rushing  wind  were  as  endless  parchments 
unrolled  in  the  madness  of  haste  that  the  eye  might  be- 
hold the  writing  of  Kismet.  She  was  not  afraid,  but, 
drawing  her  garments  more  closely,  stepped  into  the 
darkening  tumult. 

"Stay  thou  beside  the  tent!"  she  cried  through  the 
wind.  "Fear  not  for  me!" 

Ere  she  reached  the  place  beside  the  fires  the  young 
camel  had  torn  away,  but  stood  with  uplifted  head,  not 
yet  knowing  of  its  freedom.  Aletra  called  the  feeding- 
call  and  blindly  sought  to  find  durah  to  tempt  it ;  but,  as 
if  it  heard  another — a  voice  from  a  great  distance — it 
roared  even  as  the  storm  and  fled  into  the  heart  of  the 
tempest. 

For  the  space  of  a  moment  the  sun  shone  through  the 
waves  dimly ;  then,  as  if  all  the  spirits  of  those  who  had 
perished  in  the  sand  from  the  beginning  of  time  had 
risen,  each  bringing  a  host  armed  with  invisible  lancers, 
the  desert  closed  about  her.  The  fleeing  camel  was 
blotted  from  her  sight ;  the  tents  were  gone.  And  as  she 
listened  to  the  neighing  of  the  sand-steeds  that  tore  over 
the  desert,  the  gates  of  the  sands  closed  upon  her. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

STRANGE  WRITING  IN  THE  SAND 

FOR  two  days  Attar  and  the  Hindu  journeyed  stead- 
ily into  the  desert  and  toward  the  Village  of  the 
Weavers,  concerning  which  place  the  Moslem,  deceived 
his  heart  with  hope. 

Ramon,  as  if  half  repenting  his  confidence,  rode 
apart  and  well  in  advance.  His  camel,  seeming  to  un- 
derstand his  mood,  quickened  his  stride  whenever  the 
other  neared  him. 

There  was  not  so  much  as  a  footstep  in  the  sand, 
and  the  vastness  and  the  windless  silence  of  the  yellow 
plain  had  nothing  to  impart ;  but  was  rather  a  quivering 
mirror,  before  which  to  adorn  oneself  with  the  fine 
things  of  the  soul. 

Ramon  wondered  not  at  the  vastness  about  him. 
Having  lived  in  it  so  many  years,  something  of  it 
had  entered  his  soul  and  made  him  what  he  was — a 
seer  who  looked  into  the  great  heart  of  things  and 
scorned  nothing — not  even  the  smallest  moving  thing 
upon  the  sand,  yet  who  exalted  nothing  into  greatness. 

To  him  the  desert  itself  was  a  scroll  of  fate,  unroll- 
ing, league  by  league,  to  the  music  of  the  sun.  Sahara, 
changeless  in  its  eternal  change,  was  not  to  him  a  place 
through  which  he  was  journeying  to  a  definite  end,  but 

205 


206  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

was  rather  the  beginning,  the  intervening  time  and  the 
end,  within  itself. 

On  the  morn  of  the  third  day — a  yellow  morn  bend- 
ing over  the  battlements  of  sand — they  were  driven 
from  the  path  of  their  journey  by  a  great  wind.  So 
swift  was  it,  and  so  suddenly  blew  the  rising  clouds  from 
the  breast  of  the  desert,  that,  though  all  speed  was  made 
in  folding  the  tents  and  loading  the  camels,  they  were 
overwhelmed  by  the  darkness  and  fury  of  the  storm. 

The  great  voices  of  the  two  Sudanese  kept  the  camels 
together  as  the  beasts  plunged  across  the  path  of  the 
wind  with  scarce  a  leading.  Yet  was  this  not  the  heart 
of  the  tempest,  but  only  the  wings  of  the  storm  that 
brushed  them. 

Within  an  hour  the  khamsin  had  passed,  and  but  for  a 
fallen  date-palm  beside  a  spring  and  clean-swept,  track- 
less dunes  that  reached  into  the  distances,  there  was  no 
echo  left  of  it  in  the  golden  day.  But  it  was  well  after 
the  noonday  prayer  ere  the  caravan  had  come  nigh  unto 
the  traveled  road  again. 

When  they  were  come  to  a  rock  that  had  a  green 
mouth  which  bespoke  a  hidden  spring,  they  spread  the 
tents  and  relieved  the  camels  of  their  burdens,  and  while 
the  beasts  groaned  and  complained  in  bitterness — even 
while  they  ate  the  scant  durah — Attar  went  a  little  way 
apart  that  he  might  give  thanks  for  their  deliverance 
and  speak  further  with  Allah  concerning  his  quest — 
for  in  the  heart  of  the  tempest  a  voice  had  spoken  to  him 
with  a  tongue  of  fire,  and  a  hope  that  was  nigh  unto 
certainty  was  upon  him. 

He  sought  a  place  between  two  great  dunes  and,  bow- 
ing his  forehead  to  the  sand,  spoke  sacred  words  and  bo- 
sought  Allah  to  prosper  his  search. 


STEANGE  WEITING  IN  THE  SAND         207 

The  wind  had  left  the  waste  trackless,  but  when  he 
rose  and  turned  his  face  toward  the  west,  a  writing  of 
strange  words  lay  before  him — a  writing  in  Arabic: 

"Seek  and  thou  shalt  find." 

He  bent  above  the  crumpled  scroll  and  scanned  it 
eagerly.  Then,  even  while  he  feared  that  some  stray 
feather  of  the  wind  left  from  the  day  would  sweep  it 
hence,  he  called  loudly  to  Ramon,  and  when  the  Wizard 
was  come  they  studied  the  script  together. 

"The  words  hold  a  strange  meaning,"  said  Attar. 
"]STone  but  the  hand  of  Allah  may  preserve  aught  upon 
the  sand  when  the  wind  bloweth  as  it  hath  this  day. 
What  sayest  thou  and  we  follow  for  a  space  the  way 
if  seemeth  to  point — toward  the  west  ?" 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  Hindu. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

LOVE  IS  DISCLOSED  TO  ALETRA 

THEY  took  their  way  over  low  dunes  and  in  shallow 
troughs,  and  again  along  a  level  stretch,  swept  clean 
as  a  garden  path.  When  the  half  of  an  hour  had  passed, 
and  there  was  no  trace  of  man  or  caravan,  they  thought 
to  return ;  for  night  falls  quickly  in  the  desert,  and  the 
sun  was  nigh  unto  the  setting,  and  they  turned.  But, 
mounting  the  last  dune,  Attar's  camel  stumbled;  and 
after  examining  the  beast's  foot,  and  when  he  looked 
down  into  the  deep  trough  beyond,  there,  almost  before 
him,  in  the  shelter  of  the  dune,  he  saw  the  words  again, 
written  feebly  upon  the  sand: 

"Seek  and  thou  shalt  find." 

"It  is  a  sign  from  the  hand  of  Allan,"  said  the  Mos- 
lem ;  "for,  seest  thou,  there  is  no  footprint  ?" 

The  Hindu  bent  his  eyes  closely  upon  the  scroll. 

"He  who  kath  written  this  is  nigh  unto  death  with 
weakness  or  palsy,"  he  said.  "Let  us  go  farther." 

And  they  went  in  silence  along  a  small  path,  and  they 
held  their  eyes  in  close  search  upon  the  sand.  And 
when  they  were  come  beside  a  palm  that  grew  near  a 
great  stone,  again  the  words,  "Seek  and  thou  shalt  find," 
were  written  in  the  sand.  Yet  had  they  not  sought 
they  would  have  passed  them  by,  so  broken  was  the 
script,  so  weakly  faint 

208 


LOVE  IS  DISCLOSED  TO  ALETRA         209 

There  was  naught  else;  but  they  went  a  few  paces 
farther  into  the  west  and  beyond  the  stone,  and  there 
they  beheld  no  track  of  beast  nor  man,  but  the  mark  of  a 
hand  beside  the  small  path. 

And  when  they  had  gone  over  the  rise  and  down  and 
along  a  level  way  they  come  upon  an  Egyptian,  bent, 
shriveled  with  age,  his  eyes  bandaged,  his  lips  cracked 
with  thirst.  His  body  was  almost  cold  from  the  advanc- 
ing night.  Life  still  beat  in  the  aged  pulse,  but  he 
could  not  speak. 

As  they  bent  above  him,  the  sun  showed  a  half  circle 
in  the  crimson  west. 

They  had  gone  far  in  the  unmarked  dunes,  so  Attar 
lifted  the  small,  shriveled  figure  and  bore  it  to  his 
camel ;  and  when  the  beast  had  knelt  he  mounted  it,  still 
holding  his  burden. 

His  great  arms  formed  a  bed  for  the  Egyptian,  and 
as  the  breath  of  the  waning  day  was  chill,  he  opened 
his  burnoose  and  drew  it  over  the  wasted  form. 

Ramon,  whose  camel  was  very  swift,  went  before, 
that  the  path  should  be  marked  for  Attar's  beast;  for 
there  was  still  a  slight  wind,  and  they  could  not  see  to 
return  by  the  way  they  had  come.  Even  the  small  path 
that  had  been  made  by  the  Egyptian  dragging  himself 
along  the  sand  had  been  swept  away. 

When  the  warmth  of  the  Moslem's  body  had  pene- 
trated his  flesh,  the  man  stirred  feebly.  And  when  the 
meaning  of  life  returned  to  the  Copt  and  he  could  speak 
he  called  weakly: 

"Hagar,  my  daughter  Hagar,  where  art  thou  ?" 

Then,  feeling  the  motion  of  the  camel,  and  also  that 
he  was  held  in  strong  arms,  he  became  affrighted  and 
sought  to  free  himself. 


210  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Well-nigh  hast  thou  perished,"  said  Attar  gently, 
"but  for  thy  thought  to  write  upon  the  sand." 

"Thou  hast  a  strange  voice.  Where  is  Hagar?" 
asked  the  Copt. 

"Naught  have  we  seen  of  any  but  thee.  Are  thy 
tents  far?" 

"In  the  shadow  of  the  Red  Rocks  of  Jazeb.  Yet 
know  I  not  how  far  they  lie;  one  full  day  have  I  wan- 
dered and  a  night,"  he  said  brokenly.  "The  wind 
came — my  daughter,  who  journeyed  with  me  had — 
scarce — left  the  tent — when  the  camel  fled  over  the 
dunes.  Vainly  she  tried — to  stay  him  with  a  call  of 
food,  and  fared  quickly  after  the  beast — then  came  the 
khamsin,  swift  and  with  the  sting  of  a  thousand 
serpents. 

"But  even  through  the  wind  I  heard  her  voice  calling : 
'Seek  the  tent,  O  my  father;  seek  the  tent  and  fear  not 
for  me.'  But,  though  I  have  sought,  I  have  found  it 
not,  and  my  sightless  eyes  have  led  me  into  the  wilder- 
ness, and  Hagar  is  alone." 

"To  be  a  woman  and  alone  in  the  desert  is  not  good," 
said  the  Moslem.  "And  when  thou  hast  had  thy  morsel, 
we  will  go  in  all  haste  to  thy  daughter." 

"May  the  blessings  of  the  Lord  Isa  rest  upon  thee  and 
thy  children  and  theirs,"  murmured  the  other. 

But  when  they  had  returned  to  the  tents  of  Ramon 
and  Attar,  the  Copt  was  far  spent,  and  the  Wizard 
feared  that  he  could  not  survive  any  further  journey, 
and  when  they  had  taken  him  from  the  camel  he  began 
ministering  to  the  man  with  his  own  hands.  Now,  a 
Copt  is  an  Egyptian  Christian,  and  the  servants  of 
Ramon,  being  Moslems,  considered  such  scarce  better 
than  the  dogs. 


But  ever  as  they  ministered  to  him  the  man  called, 
"Hagar,  Hagar !"  as  one  in  the  toils  of  a  fever,  and  he 
begged  them  to  put  forth  at  once  and  seek  the  girl. 
Attar  drew  his  burnoose  about  him,  and,  taking  a  skin 
of  camel's  milk  and  some  water  and  bread  and  dates, 
fared  to  the  Red  Bocks  of  Jazeb,  promising  the  Copt  to 
find  his  daughter  and  bring  her  unto  him. 

The  Red  Rocks  were  a  little  more  than  a  league 
distant.  Zobel,  the  Copt,  mistaking  the  length  of  the 
hours,  had  groped  blindly  in  a  path  never  far  from  his 
own  tent. 

"Small  wonder,"  thought  Attar;  "yet  must  the 
woman  also  have  strayed,  else  with  the  eyes  of  youth 
would  she  have  found  her  father." 

When  he  had  come  upon  the  rocks,  a  tent  lay  near 
them — a  tent  the  wind  had  torn  widely.  A  drift  of 
sand  held  it  else  would  it  have  blown  afar.  No  further 
trace  of  life  was  there.  The  wind  had  washed  all  foot- 
steps from  the  sand. 

Clambering  to  the  top  of  the  rocks,  Attar  looked  far 
over  the  dunes.  Leagues  of  waste  rolled  into  the  dis- 
tance, but  naught  else  met  his  gaze.  Then  he  lifted 
his  voice  and  sent  it  in  a  mighty  call  over  the  dunes. 

"Hagar,  Hagar,  Hagar !"  Thrice  he  called,  and  then 
listened  for  answer.  At  the  sound  of  the  third  call 
there  was  a  cry — faint  unto  fancy  it  was,  but  bore  the 
meaning  of  a  woman  in  extremity,  and  he  descended, 
and,  looking  about  him  with  care,  saw  a  piece  of  cloth 
lying  close  beneath  the  shelter  of  a  rock.  A  form  moved 
weakly  beneath  it. 

He  swept  the  sand  away  and  found  a  woman — a 
woman  swathed  in  Inmk  and  veils.  But  when  he  un- 
covered her  he  sprang  back  in  affright. 


212  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"A  leper!"  cried  Attar,  for  a  face  white  unto  death, 
with  the  withered  whiteness  of  the  unclean,  lay  before 
him,  and  he  would  not  touch  her.  He  returned  to 
the  camel  and  took  of  the  water  and  cleansed  his  hands. 
Yet  even  as  he  did  this  he  knew  that  he  would  go  back 
to  the  woman  and  minister  to  her,  for  she  was  perishing 
and  he  thought  how  he  would  do  this  without  touching 
her. 

At  last  he  took  the  rug,  for  he  durst  not  lay  his 
hands  upon  her  without  protection,  and  approached  her 
where  she  lay  and  freed  her  from  the  tent  stuff  which 
covered  her  and  plucked  at  her  haik.  But  ever  he  kept 
from  touching  her,  and  the  sweat  of  fear  was  upon  his 
brow. 

"Hath  the  tent  bruised  thee?"  he  asked  when  she 
moved  as  if  in  pain.  "Hast  thou — 

He  said  no  more,  for  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  the 
woman  opened  her  eyes.  A  moment  she  looked  blindly 
into  his  face.  Then,  with  sudden  strength,  she  cried : 

"Master,  O  master!"  and  held  forth  her  arms. 

"Aletra!    Aletra!" 

Forgetting  his  fear,  he  folded  her  in  a  swift 
embrace.  In  the  gladness  of  the  moment  she  thought 
not  of  the  parchment  veil  upon  her  face. 

At  the  joy  of  his  touch  a  new  strength  ran  swiftly 
through  her  veins,  and  when  he  put  a  cup  to  her  lips 
she  said : 

"0  my  master,  I  crave  naught  but  the  sight  of  thy 
face — the  face  mine  eyes  have  hungered  for  in  the  still 
watches  of  the  night  and  in  the  noontime  and  the 
evening." 

And  he  took  her  in  his  arms  again  and  wrapped  her 
in  his  burnoose  as  if  he  would  defend  her  from  the 


LOVE  IS  DISCLOSED  TO  ALETRA         213 

world.  Then,  even  as  she  feasted  her  eyes  upon  him, 
swift,  like  the  thrust  of  a  knife  in  her  heart,  came  the 
thought  that  Babek  had  not  lied.  And  she  questioned: 

"How  comest  thou  to  wander  so  far  from,  thy  new 
magnificence  whereunto  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful 
hath  appointed  thee  ?" 

"I  have  his  leave  to  journey,"  said  Attar. 

"And  the  city  thou  shalt  rule  over  ?"  she  cried,  yet 
waited  not  for  his  answer;  for  now  that  she  saw  the 
sorrow  upon  his  face,  she  thought  it  the  sorrow  of  the 
last  farewell  from  her,  and  the  compassion,  like  unto  a 
holy  man's,  which  shone  in  his  eyes  tore  her  with  anger, 
and  even  in  the  hour  of  their  meeting  she  could  not 
silence  the  bitterness  of  her  tongue. 

"And  Azalia,  the  Greek,"  she  cried — "bideth  she  still 
in  the  seraglio,  or  journeyeth  she  with  thee?" 

"In  the  seraglio,"  he  answered  sadly,  "and  there  will 
she  bide." 

But  Aletra  understood  him  riot,  and  thought  he  sor- 
rowed for  that  he  must  needs  give  her  to  the  Sultan; 
black  rage  assailed  her,  and  she  tore  her  coarse 
garments,  and  the  golden  reaches  of  the  desert  turned 
dark  in  her  eyes,  and  the  years  grew  black  before  her. 

Babek  had  not  lied ! 

"Go  thou !"  she  cried,  trying  to  rise.  "The  wilder- 
ness is  kinder  to  me  than  thine  eyes.  The  sands  more 
pitiful  than  thy  lips,  an  thou  admittest  Babek's  words 
as  truth." 

"And  what  hath  Babek  told  thee  ?"  he  questioned. 

But  she  would  not  answer,  and  calling  "Awah! 
Awah!"  beat  upon  her  breast;  yet  she  wept  not.  He 
would  have  gathered  her  to  him  again  but  that  she  tore 
away. 


214  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

"Ne'er,  though  the  years  be  few  or  many,  am  I  for 
thee  again." 

"Wouldst  thou  deny  me  in  the  hour  of  our  meeting  ?" 
he  chided. 

"Yea,  in  this  hour  and  forever.  Thou  shalt  return 
without  me." 

And,  thinking  she  would  separate  herself  from  him 
because  of  the  leprosy,  ho  sought  to  soothe  her  with 
gentle  words,  but  she  would  not  listen  and  turned 
away. 

"Alone  shall  I  dwell  in  the  wilderness,"  she  said,  "for 
in  the  hour  hath  youth  forsaken  me." 

"Forget  not,  O  my  beloved,  that  thou  art  my  wife.  I 
am  thy  master,  and  where  I  bid  thee  dwell  there  wilt 
thou  dwell,"  he  said  in  gentle  chiding. 

"]STay!"  she  cried  in  a  fresh  burst  of  bitterness. 
"Thou  canst  not  take  me  to  the  seraglio.  But  in  the 
evening  the  women  who  dwell  in  the  great  harem — the 
women  shall  tell  Azalia,  of  Aletra,  how  she  hath 
fled  a  Sultan  for  thee,  and  Azalia  shall  tell  them  how 
thou  didst  find  her  more  to  thy  pleasure.  And  the 
desert  city  thou  shalt  rule  over " 

"Peace,  O  my  life,"  he  said  softly,  taking  her  hand, 
which  she  strove  to  draw  from  him.  "Henceforth  shall 
I  live  in  the  far  places  of  the  world — I  and  thou ;  and 
the  city  I  rule  shall  be  a  city  without  walls  wherein 
dwell  but  two — thou  and  I. 

"We  will  bide  in  the  desert ;  and  when  the  night  falls 
I  will  tell  thee  of  all  I  have  refused  for  thee,  and  that  I 
am  well  pleased  that  I  did  thus.  And  thou  shalt  tell 
me  over  again  the  words  of  the  Sultan,  and  how  thou 
didst  fare  from  his  favor  and  forsake  the  seraglio  to  be 
with  me.  And,  though  in  hiding,  will  we  be  content." 


LOVE  IS  DISCLOSED  TO  ALETRA         215 

As  he  spoke,  she  listened  eagerly,  thinking  that, 
having  beheld  her,  he  could  not  put  her  away,  and  that 
he  would  hide  in  the  desert  from  the  Sultan's  dis- 
pleasure. And  her  heart  beat  wildly,  and  she  cast  her 
veil  swiftly  from  her,  but  in  that  moment  she  thought 
of  the  parchment.  And,  as  if  a  great  fright  had  sud- 
denly seized  her,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
that  he  should  not  look  upon  her.  And  she  cast  herself 
at  his  feet. 

But  when  she  would  speak,  he  silenced  her  and  gath- 
ered her  to  him,  and  in  that  moment  the  sands  were  as 
of  dazzling  gold  and  the  unseen  blossoms  of  the  silence 
spread  a  wondrous  perfume.  The  moments  that  passed 
were  singing  years  of  delight,  and  each  grain  of  the 
desert  whispered : 

"This  is  love — love  beyond  which  hath  never  been 
offered  to  woman.  He  believeth  thee  a  leper,  yet  feareth 
not  to  touch  thee." 

And  she  could  not  stop  him  nor  speak  for  the  words 
that  poured  from  his  lips,  and  his  face  was  like  that  of 
some  holy  man  who  had  become  purified  in  earth's  sor- 
rows. And  when  he  suffered  her  to  speak,  she  bowed 
her  head  again  at  his  feet. 

"O  Allah,"  she  cried,  "give  unto  me  a  penance  to 
ease  mine  heart  for  that  I  have  doubted  love  like  unto 
this!" 

Then,  clasping  his  feet,  she  cried  afresh: 

"O  master,  unworthy  am  I  to  unlatch  thy  shoes !" 

She  wept,  and  her  tears  loosened  the  parchment, 
and  she  cast  it  away  unseen  of  the  master.  And  her 
face  shone  as  she  were  a  daughter  of  the  moon,  so  fair 
it  was.  As  he  continued  to  comfort  her  with  the 
words  of  a  love  that  was  greater  than  passion  of  the 


216  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

flesh,  greater  than  ambition  or  security  or  life  itself, 
she  unbound  her  hair  and  spread  it  as  a  shining  carpet 
before  him,  and  besought  him  to  rest  his  feet  upon  it. 
But  he  bent  and  lifted  her  from  the  sand  and  beheld 
her. 

"Allah !"  he  cried,  leaping  back  in  amazement. 
"Allah!  A  miracle!" 

Then,  still  gazing  into  her  face,  he  pressed  his  palms 
to  his  brow. 

"Allah,"  he  cried,  rising,  "preserve  thou  me  from 
madness !" 

She  feared  that  he  was  angered  that  she  had 
deceived  him,  and  she  told  him  how  she  had  covered 
her  features  with  a  living  parchment  like  unto  the  skin 
of  the  lepers  that  she  might  preserve  her  beauty  from 
the  craving  of  the  Sultan,  and  of  how  Babek  had  lied 
and  tempted  her  but  the  night  before. 

He  was  filled  with  wonder  and  delight  as  he  listened. 
But  as  she  continued  to  speak  even  as  the  Sultan  had 
listened  to  her  words  in  the  seraglio,  not  hearing  them 
for  that  the  sight  of  her  beauty  had  dulled  his  ear,  so 
also  Attar  now  heard  her  words  in  the  heart  of  the 
wilderness  without  understanding  them ;  for  the  miracle 
of  her  kneeling  upon  the  sand,  with  her  shining  hair 
lying  about  her,  made  him  deaf. 

But  in  his  eyes  dwelt  the  fire,  the  life,  the  desire  of 
his  manhood.  His  gaze  caressed  her,  clothed  her,  em- 
braced her,  warmed  her,  fed  her.  As  she  looked  the 
desert  faded,  and  she  saw  naught  but  his  eyes.  They 
drew  her,  they  encompassed  her,  interpreted  the  mean- 
ing of  the  creation  of  life. 

Though  they  had  scorched  with  a  lesser  flame  when 
she  had  withdrawn  from  him  in  the  ruined  temple  be- 
fore he  had  fared  away,  now  there  was  naught  to  flee 


LOVE  IS  DISCLOSED  TO  ALETRA         217 

from.  Yet  their  flaming  hunger  was  a  thousandfold  in- 
creased. But  it  was  as  the  white  flame  of  a  censer, 
compared  with  the  fire  of  a  nomad's  camp.  The  one 
consumeth ;  the  other  purifieth.  Passion,  the  passion  of 
the  ruined  temple  before  the  birth  of  love,  would  have 
consumed  her  womanhood,  made  of  it  something  less 
eternal  than  Allah  had  ordained;  but,  purified  by  the 
flame  of  love  that  braved  the  danger  of  a  living  death, 
it  became  the  measure  of  the  intention  of  the  Most 
Great,  the  holy  flame  in  the  divine  censer  wherein  souls 
are  created  under  the  eye  of  Allah — souls  that  redeem 
the  world. 

Looking,  she  crept  closer,  till  in  the  swift  strength 
of  his  embrace  the  desert  vanished  and  the  skies  were 
veiled  and  the  rocks  and  the  far  distances  were  blotted 
out.  In  the  moment  of  her  humility  and  surrender  his 
power  was  hers,  his  strength  hers,  his  desire,  his  will 
hers. 

Caress  for  caress  she  gave  him ;  heart-beat  for  heart- 
beat. In  the  moment  she  understood  the  voice  of  the 
silence  and  what  it  would  tell  her  in  the  moon-radiance 
of  the  night  that  was  past.  Sahara  sang  its  vast  lullaby 
of  wordless,  soundless  music ;  the  sky  covered  them  with 
weaving  of  the  souls  of  roses;  the  silence  lay,  a  per- 
fumed amber  carpet,  at  their  feet. 

That  night,  Attar's  quest  being  finished,  the  Hindu 
bade  him  farewell  and  fared  back  into  the  wilderness 
whence  he  had  come.  The  Moslem,  standing  before 
Aletra's  tent,  saw  him  in  the  growing  dimness  for  a 
while  as  he  rode  farther  in  the  golden  mist  of  the  night 
on  his  camel.  Then  he  vanished  in  the  eternal  silence  of 
Sahara,  and  Attar  beheld  him  no  more,  nor  did  he 
hear  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

CONCLUSION 

IT  was  the  third  day  after  the  finding  of  Aletra.  A 
caravan  journeying  to  Egypt  passed,  and  great  was 
the  rejoicing  of  the  Copt,  Zobel  Ben  Zewar;  for  with 
it  journeyed  a  young  man  of  his  own  house.  And  with 
blessings  upon  Aletra,  whom  he  loved  as  a  daughter, 
and  upon  Attar,  he  bade  them  farewell  after  many 
words  of  good  counsel. 

Attar,  being  alone  for  a  space,  began  to  write  to  the 
Sultan.  This  was  not  easy,  for  to  confess  his  ingrati- 
tude was  to  make  poor  return  for  the  favors  bestowed 
upon  him  by  the  royal  hand.  Again,  the  wives  be- 
stowed upon  him  were  his,  according  to  the  law  and 
the  Prophet,  and  the  honor  of  such  gifts  from  the  im- 
perial harem  must  needs  be  treated  with  respect.  He 
thought  long  before  he  drew  the  parchment  to  him  and 
began: 

To  THE  COMMANDER  OF  THE  FAITHFUL: 

Sultan  of  those  who  still  barken  to  the  words  of  the  Prophet. 
Peace  be  unto  thee.  May  Allah  bless  thee  and  all  that  dwell 
in  the  shadow  of  thy  seraglios  throughout  the  land. 

This  is  from  the  hand  of  the  Moslem  whose  wife — that 
was  called  Jeppa — found  favor  in  thy  sight  when  she  came 
to  the  royal  harem  to  minister  to  one  of  thy  household — one 
of  whom  I  may  not  speak.  Jeppa,  the  real  Jeppa,  wife  of 
my  young  manhood,  a  woman  beyond  price,  lieth  in  the  great 

218 


CONCLUSION  219 

silence.  Her  hast  thou,  O  great  Sultan,  never  beheld,  for 
she  whom  thou  didst  look  upon  was  Aletra,  my  beautiful- 
wife,  who  had  gone  to  the  royal  harem  in  the  place  of  Jeppa, 
whose  child  was  even  then  stricken. 

This  knew  I  not  when  I  stood  before  thee  in  Tunis.  Yet 
strong  was  I  in  the  faith  that  once  more  would  I  look  into  the 
eyes  of  Aletra,  and  Allah  rewarded  my  faith,  for  I  found  her. 
Great  is  the  power  of  Allah. 

Why  do  I  write  these  words,  O  Chosen  One  of  Heaven? 
For  what  I  would  give  to  thine  ear  a  secret.  As  the  leech 
findeth  the  plague-spot  that  causeth  death,  even  so  may  the 
plague-spot  that  consumeth  Islam  be  found  upon  the  many 
rugs  and  cushions  of  the  harems  throughout  the  East. 

There,  upon  the  faces  of  the  women  that  are  mothers,  and 
of  those  who  are  to  be  the  mothers  of  men,  will  be  found 
the  secret  of  the  failure  of  the  hosts  of  the  Prophet  when 
they  stand  forth  in  battle  with  other  nations. 

I  would  not,  O  mighty  Sultan,  have  thee  think  that  a  son 
of  Islam  looked  with  favor  upon  the  ways  of  the  infidel;  but 
of  one  great  truth  concerning  them  would  I  speak :  It  is  for 
the  reason  that  their  women  are  unafraid  that  the  armies  of 
the  Christian  nations  rule  the  world. 

The  day  fast  approacheth  when  Islam  shall  have  need  of 
men  to  meet  the  Eoumi — men  strong  enough  to  be  for- 
bearing, holy  enough  to  be  compassionate,  great  enough 
to  be  humble. 

To  this  end  should  the  rulers  of  the  people  of  the  Prophet 
seek  to  raise  up  a  mighty  nation  whose  words  may  echo  in 
the  council  chambers  of  distant  lands.  To  this  end  should 
the  spirit  of  Islam  bend  the  thought  of  its  young  children, 
and  call  into  the  future  to  those  still  unbegotten,  that  in 
the  time  of  trial  Islam  shall  not  be  overcome. 

But  these  men  of  the  coming  Islam — the  Islam  whose 
prayers  are  murmured  by  the  lips  of  a  fifth  of  the  world — 
will  not  be  the  sons  of  women  who  bred  them  in  fear  and 
suckled  them  on  black  jealousy;  for  a  man  may  get  his 
stature  from  the  bones  of  his  father  and  his  growth  from 
his  father's  way  of  life;  but  oft  he  getteth  his  heart  from 
the  woman  who  trembled  ere  she  bore  him,  who  nursed  him 


220  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

in  sorrow,  who  carried  him  sleeping  upon  her  tortured  breast. 

As  the  silence  of  the  desert  assaileth  the  ear  in  the  first 
watches  of  travel,  even  so  should  the  dumbness  of  the  woman 
of  Islam  assail  the  ear  of  the  believer  and  speak  with  a  greater 
power  than  the  rush  of  winds  or  the  rolling  of  thunder. 

For,  though  she  serve  ever  so  humbly,  there  is  revolt  in  her 
heart.  And  the  child  she  will  bear  shall,  in  a  not  distant  day, 
stand  thus  before  the  powers  of  the  world :  revolting  in  heart 
and  mind,  and  though  he  battle  with  the  fierceness  of  a 
dervish  he  is  overcome,  while  the  fat  places  of  Islam  are 
divided  before  his  eyes  and  the  holy  places  made  to  be  without 
holiness. 

0,  thou  whom  Allah  hath  set  over  the  souls  of  many,  let 
me  beseech  thee  to  proclaim  from  the  housetops  this  truth: 
That  it  is  to  the  women  of  a  nation  that  that  nation  must 
look  for  a  finer  race  of  men,  and  it  is  to  the  Moslem  women 
that  the  Moslem  must  look  if  Islam  shall  ever  again  take 
her  place  in  the  council  of  nations. 

And  now  would  I  speak  of  the  two  wives  thou  didst  give 
from  the  sanctuary  of  thine  own  harem.  Azalia,  the  only  one 
that  hath  come  before  me,  wept  grievously  that  she  should 
be  stricken  from  thy  holy  presence.  She  was  fair  to  look 
upon  as  a  rose  in  noonday  in  the  heart  of  August,  but  though 
she  was  fair  I  touched  her  not. 

That  night  I  fared  into  the  wilderness  to  find  her  whom 
thou  hast  seen,  the  rose  of  the  world  to  me.  In  the  desert  I 
made  a  covenant  with  Allah  an  I  found  her  I  would  be  unto 
her  as  she  was  unto  me,  and  having  found  her,  from  this  day 
forth  until  I  shall  be  gathered  to  my  fathers,  even  as  she 
hath  kept  her  heart  pure  for  me,  will  my  heart  concern  itself 
with  no  other  woman. 

Therefore,  0  mighty  Sultan,  though  I  am  not  ungrateful 
for  thy  favor,  or  heedless  of  the  honors  thou  didst  cover  me 
with,  my  pen  is  forced  to  write  these  words  my  tongue  doth 
now  utter :  "Azalia,  I  divorce  thee,  I  divorce  thee,  I  divorce 
thee  I  Zittarra,  I  divorce  thee,  I  divorce  thee,  I  divorce 
thee!" 

Concerning  the  gold  and  jewels  thou  hast  further  bestowed 
upon  me,  they  still  lie  in  the  royal  seraglio,  for  knowing  that 
I  would  return  no  more,  I  took  them  not  hence. 


CONCLUSION  221 

I  ask  not  pardon,  for  that  were  too  much  to  ask  from  even 
such  a  bountiful  heart  as  thine.  But,  an  ever  the  life  of 
Attar  al  Hassen  will  serve  thee  in  any  task  of  danger  or  death, 
it  is  thine. 

Thus  unto  thee,  who  are  not  only  Sultan,  but  man  as  well, 
with  tears,  the  tears  of  an  exile,  I  whisper  farewell,  and  to 
the  graves  of  my  fathers,  to  all  those  I  loved  in  my  youth,  a 
tender,  long  farewell  do  I  write,  for  well  I  know  I  must  enter 
thy  sultanate  no  more. 

ATTAR  ABU  HAMED  AL  HASSEN. 

Aletra  returned  as  he  wrote  the  last  farewell.  Seeing 
the  many  sheets  of  paper  and  the  gravity  of  his  face, 
she  drew  back,  and  would  have  gone  out  again,  lest  she 
disturb  him,  had  he  not  bidden  her  stay.  The  three 
days  since  they  met  had  been  days  of  glowing  happiness 
and  black  misery  to  her.  The  master  was  still  her 
world,  and  her  hope  of  the  world  to  come,  but  the  calm 
security  of  the  women  of  the  West  was  not  hers. 

Attar  had  been  led  by  the  miracle  of  words  that  had 
endured  in  the  sands.  The  words  of  the  Lord  Isa  and 
the  prophecy  of  the  Egyptian  still  besought  his  ear,  yet 
was  he  none  the  less  a  Moslem  in  admitting  the  power 
of  a  prophet  besides  Mohammed.  This,  she  knew,  did 
not  weaken  his  belief  in  the  Mohammedan  religion. 
And  in  the  fullness  of  time,  she  reasoned,  he  would 
lead  the  life  of  his  fathers  and  complete  his  harem  of 
seven  wives,  after  the  manner  of  his  intention  before 
lie  left  Tunis. 

When  she  thought  of  this,  the  idea  that  death  migbt 
come  to  her  first  filled  her  with  a  fierce  joy.  Then  she 
would  press  these  thoughts  into  the  curtained  future, 
and  turn  from  them  to  the  present.  It  was  her  hour — 
and  the  woman  of  the  East  has  been  taught  the  value 
of  her  hour,  and  also  its  briefness,  its  pitiful  briefness  I 

She  was  so  completely  his  that  the  knowledge  that  she 


222  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

had  withheld  something  of  what  transpired  in  the  royal 
harem  bore  heavily  upon  her,  and  she  laid  not  only 
every  word  and  action  of  that  time  before  him,  but 
every  thought  as  well.  And  when  he  had  heard,  seeing 
the  transparent  purity  of  her  womanhood,  he  believed 
her,  and  honored  her  for  the  truth  of  her  lips. 

Now,  although  he  bade  her  stay,  she  did  not  allow 
her  eyes  to  rest  upon  the  pages.  But  when  he  had 
gathered  them  together  and  read  them  carefully  over, 
he  turned  and  looked  toward  her  as  she  sat  upon  a  rug  a 
little  way  apart.  "Why  art  thou  so  white,  O  my  Flower 
of  the  Dawn  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  know  not,"  she  answered. 

"Hast  thou  sorrowed  much  ?"  he  said  tenderly. 

"Yea." 

"Yet  now  the  pomegranate  of  happiness  bursteth  into 
bloom." 

For  answer  she  looked  long  into  his  eyes.  Words 
were  ever  few  upon  her  lips,  but  her  eyes  had  that 
satisfying  quality  that  made  words  seem  weak. 

"Now  thy  lips  should  be  as  the  heart  of  a  rose. 
There  is  no  longer  any  cause  for  sorrow." 

"Knowest  thou  not,  O  master,"  she  said  slowly,  "that 
there  are  many  kinds  of  pain  in  the  life  of  a  woman? 
There  is  the  pain  of  sorrow  and  the  pain  of  happiness. 
It  is  as  if  a  woman  had  brought  forth  a  son  after  much 
travail  and  labor;  and  as  if  she  feareth  to  look  upon 
that  son  lest  there  be  blemish  upon  him ;  and  even  when 
she  hath  looked  and  found  him  sound,  she  still  claspeth 
a  new  fear  to  her  heart  concerning  other  things  that  she 
may  only  know  with  the  passing  of  time." 

"Travaileth  thy  heart  thus  ?"  he  asked. 


CONCLUSION  223 

"Even  so  travaileth  my  heart,  O  master,"  she 
answered,  and  for  a  moment  the  love  in  her  eyes  was 
eclipsed  by  a  desolation  that  mirrored  all  the  fear  which 
had  torn  the  hearts  of  all  the  women  whose  blood  pulsed 
in  her  veins.  But  even  e'er  he  saw  it,  the  shadow  was 
gone,  and  bringing  her  cushion  beside  him,  she  sank 
upon  it  and  rested  her  face  against  his  hand. 

"My  well-beloved,"  he  whispered,  bending  and  en- 
circling her  with  his  arms.  "Concern  not  thy  heart  with 
our  new-born  happiness.  It  hath  no  blemish,  and  time 
will  unfold  no  blemish.  An  I  coined  thy  worth  into 
words,  never  would  I  finish  telling  thee  of  the  glory  of 
thy  smile,  the  light  of  thine  eyes,  the  beauty  of  thy 
form,  the  softness  of  the  bloom  upon  thy  cheeks." 

As  he  spoke,  he  took  her  hand  and  nestled  it  against 
his  heart. 

"Take  my  heart,"  he  said,  "thou  woman  of  my  earthly 
paradise.  Take  it  in  thy  pink  palms.  The  red  blood 
floweth  through  it.  Feel  the  pulsing  of  it  against  thy 
little  fingers,  and  as  thou  feelest  each  throb  know  that 
it  is  thine — thine — thine." 

Every  word  he  spoke  thrilled  her  with  exquisite 
waves  of  emotion,  almost  an  anguish  in  their  delight. 
Both  her  soul  and  young  body  tasted  their  sweetness 
and  radiated  an  intoxicating  magnetism  in  answer. 
Her  head  fell  back  upon  his  arm ;  she  looked  into  his 
face  that  was  so  close;  the  oblivion  of  the  present  was 
slowly  closing  upon  her  when,  once  more,  the  specter  of 
the  future  came  between,  and  for  an  instant  desolation 
entered  her  eyes. 

"What  dost  thou  fear  ?'  he  asked.  "When  thou  look- 
est  thus  thou  art  thrusting  thorns  into  the  naked  heart 


224  THE  WEDNESDAY  WIFE 

of  thy  Attar — the  heart  that  lies  helpless  in  thy  soft 
hands.  Bruise  it  not  with  any  look  of  sorrow;  rejoice, 
for  it  is  but  the  spring-time  of  our  marriage." 

"I  rejoice,"  she  said,  rising  and  pointing  to  the 
papers.  "Thou  hast  written  many  pages."  She  had 
lost  something  of  her  fear.  "Hast  thou  written  con- 
cerning thy  holdings  and  thy  house  in  Tunis?" 

Attar  took  the  letter  and  began  to  unfold  the  pages 
till  he  came  to  the  first,  then  gave  it  all  into  her  hands, 
saying: 

"Read  thou,  that  henceforth  and  forever  thou  shalt 
add  peace  unto  thy  love  and  faith  unto  thy  peace  and 
from  them  gather  the  fruit  of  security." 

And  she  read — and  when  she  had  finished,  she  stood 
before  him  clad  in  a  new  beauty.  It  was  as  if  a  mortal 
woman  had  stood  before  the  spirit  of  the  universe,  and 
as  if,  with  a  touch  of  his  wings,  he  had  bestowed  immor- 
tality upon  her.  So  had  the  gift  of  faith  fallen  upon 
Aletra. 

She  spoke  no  word,  but  as  they  stood  apart  looking 
into  each  other's  eyes,  each  reading  the  soul  of  the 
other,  each  feeling  the  security  of  faith  against  the 
infinite  mysteries  of  time — though  neither  as  much  as 
touched  the  tips  of  the  fingers  of  the  other — they  were 
closer  than  ever  the  clinging  of  arms  and  ardent  lips 
had  brought  them. 

Then,  as  she  still  held  the  letter,  she  spoke,  saying : 

"Chain  not  thy  heart  with  words,  O  master,  lest  in 
the  years  to  come  they  turn  and  wound  thee." 

And  he  made  answer : 

"Fear  not,  O  my  Elower  of  the  Dawn.  The  joys 
of  the  flesh  are  as  the  leaves  of  the  wine  of  life,  giving 
it  something  of  beauty  and  grace  yet  swept  hither  and 


CONCLUSION  225 

thither.     The  wind  bloweth  upon  them,  they  are  scat- 
tered or  fall  to  the  earth  and  are  forgotten. 

"But  love  is  the  flower  of  the  vine;  and  in  the  heart 
of  the  flower  dwelleth  that  which  has  been,  and  is,  and 
ever  will  be:  the  mystery  that  hath  neither  beginning 
nor  end  nor  certain  place  nor  any  season — the  mystery 
that  is  present  in  all  things,  and  yet  dwelleth  in  the 
inner  heart  of  Allah,  the  mystery  that  is  Allah." 


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Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


NON-RENEWABLE 

JAN  08  1962 


DAT 


FEB  08  1992 


:  RECEIVED 


A     000128711     9 


